Gabriel Varden—Chap. xii.
"He retort!" cried Haredale. "Look you here, my lord. Do you know this man!"—Chap. xliii.
"In the name of God no!" shrieked the widow, darting forward. "Barnaby—my lord—see—he'll come back—Barnaby—Barnaby!"—Chap. xlviii.
"A brave evening, mother! If we had chinking in our pockets but a few specks of that gold which is piled up yonder in the sky, we should be rich for life"—Chap. xlv.