’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. "This is our last transaction together. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. She opened it and imbibed. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination.
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