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One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. “I have a special surprise for you, Lucia. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. 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. I want you beyond measure or reckoning. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. “How old are you?” “Sixteen.
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