While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. I bored him. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. I am absolutely certain that up to the present we have escaped all notice, and I do not believe that any casual observer would take us for English people. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. However, not a moment is to be lost. The stain upon our family is only half effaced: I have sworn the death of the villain and his bastard, and I will keep my oath. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction.
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