By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. God knows how you did it. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father.
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