The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. Her mind left her. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters. Her shoulders began to ache. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. He screamed in pain, doubling over with a howl as she stumbled out of the bed. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. Not these twenty year. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. ToC Jack was scarcely concealed when the door opened, and the two persons of whom he had caught a glimpse below entered the room.
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