Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. It was still so dark, that nothing could be distinguished except the heavy masses of timber by which the premises were surrounded; but as they advanced, lights were visible in some of the windows. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. It was the first expression of the mother's blood.
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