ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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