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. Wished to see you. He will be some time in this comatose state. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. Spit of your mother. ” A man of infinite tact and kindness, he spoke his message and went. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing.
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