She was shaking violently when she entered the side door of the house. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. I'll go with you. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. 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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