" Mechanically raising the potion to her lips, the poor creature swallowed it without hesitation. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. A coach was also in attendance, at a little distance. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. CHAPTER XIX. Sheppard. "You've won your wager. Lose no time. Another glass, Jack. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily.
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