Thames sat with Winifred’s hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told.  Carried out to sea by Van Galgebrok, and thrown overboard, while struggling with the waves, he had been picked up by a French fishing-boat, and carried to Ostend.  After encountering various hardships and privations for a long time, during which he had no means of communicating with England, he, at length, found his way to Paris, where he was taken notice of by Cardinal Dubois, who employed him as one of his secretaries, and subsequently advanced to the service of Philip of Orleans, from whom he received a commission.  On the death of his royal patron, he resolved to return to his own country; and, after various delays, which had postponed it to the present time, he had succeeded in accomplishing his object.

Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.

The discourse, then, turned to Darrell’s old playmate, Jack Sheppard; and Mr. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.

“For my part, it’s only what I expected of him,” observed Mrs. Wood, “and I’m sorry and surprised he hasn’t swung for his crimes before this.  The gallows has groaned for him for years.  As to his mother, I’ve no pity for her.  She deserves what has befallen her.”

“Dear mother, don’t say so,” returned Winifred.  “One of the consequences of criminal conduct, is the shame and disgrace which—­worse than any punishment the evil-doer can suffer—­is brought by it upon the innocent relatives; and, if Jack had considered this, perhaps he would not have acted as he has done, and have entailed so much misery on his unhappy parent.”

“I always detested Mrs. Sheppard,” cried the carpenter’s wife bitterly; “and, I repeat, Bedlam’s too good for her.”

“My dear,” observed Wood, “you should be more charitable—­”

“Charitable!” repeated his wife, “that’s your constant cry.  Marry, come up!  I’ve been a great deal too charitable.  Here’s Winny always urging you to go and visit Mrs. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—­and I’ve never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality’s enough to provoke a saint.  And, then, forsooth, she must needs prevent your hanging Jack Sheppard after the robbery in Wych Street, when you might have done so.  Perhaps you’ll call that charity:  I call it defeating the ends of justice.  See what a horrible rascal you’ve let loose upon the world!”

“I’m sure, mother,” rejoined Winifred, “if any one was likely to feel resentment, I was; for no one could be more frightened.  But I was sorry for poor Jack—­as I am still, and hoped he would mend.”

“Mend!” echoed Mrs. Wood, contemptuously, “he’ll never mend till he comes to Tyburn.”