The door opened. The odd creak was not to be avoided in an old house such as this. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. 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. I went off to round up his wife.
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