Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. 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. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another.
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