She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. 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. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed.
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