Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. Not MY affair. Gerald lost his head. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. " "Execrable villain!" exclaimed Jack. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. Her soul was full of the sense of disaster. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. Lord help him! he's the very image of his father. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. ’ Fury rippled again. You won't have him long. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. I meant to give him a drubbing.
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