The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. Lucy's grin faded. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine.
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