Her lips were dry and cracked. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. Answering him was agonizing. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. I have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. .
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