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" "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. The continuity was frequently broken in upon by diversory suppositions.
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