” “And they go?” “When they get the chance. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. They order me to get my man, and I get him. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. Hang the wench! Roding was right. Do take them away from me after I have had four. “I cannot keep silence any longer.
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