By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. "I cannot—will not suffer you to remain here. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you.
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