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. " "Impossible!" rejoined his mother. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. How men suffer for the foolish things they do!" "Ay to that. A species of vertigo seized him. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver.
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