You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. "You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard. She had agonized over it for weeks. Jackson. 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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