” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. 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. Her voice recalled him.
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