He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Spurlock began to watch for Ruth's coming in the morning; first, with negligent interest, then with positive eagerness. He reeled, and crashed to the floor. Completely overcome by fatigue, with strained muscles, and bruised hands; streaming with perspiration, and with lips so parched that he would gladly have parted with a treasure if he had possessed it for a draught of water; he sank against the wall, and while in this state was seized with, a sudden and strange alarm. Observing Spurlock's spellbound attitude, he clapped the boy on the shoulder. " "Ha!" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild. Why don’t you go in? Charvill is there. “No, that’s fine.
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