Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. 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. For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. "Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is.
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