" "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. "Stay!" said Jonathan, aiding his descent; "you had better take my lantern. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. I'm sorry. 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.
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