Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. Having ascertained that a vessel sails for France from the river at daybreak to-morrow morning, I have secured a passage in her, and have already had the few effects I possess, conveyed on board. White calls them. I have never loved you. I can assure you, I wouldn’t be single again for worlds. What befell Jack Sheppard in the Turner's House. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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