retreating boat with closed
umbrella, and with many winks and nods which she supposed supplied full
meaning to her gestures, she stepped into the wherry, and the two at
once glided out on the placid bosom of the Thames.

Far different was the spectacle that greeted her then from that which
may now be witnessed near London Bridge. In those days that bridge was
alone visible, not far to the East, and the tide that moves now so
darkly between stone embankments beneath a myriad of grimy steamers,
then flowed brightly between low banks and wooden wharves, bearing a
gliding fleet of sailing-vessels. To the south were the fields and woods
of the open country, save where loomed the low frame houses and the
green-stained wharves of Southwark village. Behind Rebecca was a vast
huddle of frame buildings, none higher than three stories, sharp of
gable overhanging narrow streets, while here a tower and there a steeple
stood sentinel over the common herd. To the east the four great stone
cylinders of the Tower, frowning over the moving world at their feet,
loomed grimly then as now.

Rebecca had fixed her eyes at first with a fascinated stare on this
mighty mass of building, penetrated by a chill of fear, although
ignorant of its tragic significance. Turning after a minute or two from
contemplation of that gloomy monument of tyrannical power, she gazed
eagerly forward again, bent upon keeping sight of the man she was
pursuing.

He and his boat had disappeared, but her disappointment was at once
lost in admiring stupefaction as she gazed upon a magnificent craft
bearing across the bows of her boat and coming from the direction of
Westminster.

The hull, painted white, was ornamented with a bold arabesque of gilding
which seemed to flow naturally in graceful lines from the garment of a
golden image of Victory mounted high on the towering prow.

From the deck at the front and back rose two large cabins whose sides
were all of brilliant glass set between narrow panels on which were
paintings, which Rebecca could not clearly distinguish from where she
was sitting.

At the waist, between and below the cabins, ten oars protruded from each
side of the barge, flashing rhythmically as they swept forward together,
seeming to sprinkle drops of sunlight into the river.

The splendor of this apparition, contrasting as it did with the small
and somewhat dingy craft otherwise visible above the bridge, gave a new
direction to Rebecca's thou