” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. . " "This comes of fine feelings!" muttered Jonathan, contemptuously. There was just time for the girl to raise her arm to chest height and draw it back before Roding seized her. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. “We don’t pretend. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. "What is a sing-song girl?" she asked. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. “I’m d——d if I understand this,” he said thoughtfully. And, if you hear any odd noise in the parlour, don't mind it.
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