She shook her head. 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. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he. “When you loosen the tangle in one place you tie a knot in another.
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