It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. He was aroused from his slumber, about six o'clock, by the return of Abraham Mendez, who not choosing to confess that Jack had eluded his vigilance, contended himself with stating that he had kept watch till daybreak, when he had carefully searched the field, and, finding no trace of him, had thought it better to return. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday.
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