“Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. A time may come,—and that ere long,—when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned.
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