Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. “Look at me. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern.
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