They were both dressed in every respect alike. "Good bye!" cried Mrs. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. “Thought so. Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. "Heaven be praised she knows me at last. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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