” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. \" It was a lie: Lucy ate one forced meal a day, supper. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. Wood fared still worse.
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