" CHAPTER IX. “Lift up one corner of the curtain for me. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety.
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