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. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. "Certain. She had lost it. ” “I suppose so. ’ Melusine could not suppress a smile. She knew it. You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess.
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