But you have not finished surely. "I've counted ten coffins so far. He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. I told the soldier how he must go by the passage, and he found it and brought it here. Thames Darrell is—" "My husband nicknames him Thames," interrupted Mrs.
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