" "Didn't the natives have a name for you?" She blushed. Let me see my child, if he is really here?" "Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute, but deeply-interested, witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. Beauty has bloomed and faded. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. You have never seen the child within your arms perishing from hunger, and no relief to be obtained. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation.
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