She bent down. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. I'm burning to get to work. The raising of twenty-five pounds was a task altogether beyond her powers. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. 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. . .
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