Strike the gag, Blueskin. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly.
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