"I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. Explain to Sir John our feelings. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers.
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