The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. ” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes. She was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and companionable—but with a difference—a great difference. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. Once more he was the searcher. That’s probably true.
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