Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. People of your sort—I don’t want the instincts to—to rush our situation. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know.
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