"Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. ‘Jacques?’ she called. I was among the common herd in the place below, but I took good care to see you. She could not hide her face. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch.
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