Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. He would go there. Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. Not a moment is to be lost. Wood's ornaments and wearing apparel, they prepared to depart.
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