She paused for a moment. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father.
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