From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. He forces an engagement upon her. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. Lead the lad to suppose that he'll be introduced to Lady Trafford. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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