Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. My very sentences stumble and give way. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard's frame. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes.
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