“I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope. The whole affair interested him deeply. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. Having only seen him in the gloom of a dungeon, and loaded with fetters, Kneebone had not noticed this alteration: but he was now greatly struck by it. ’ ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. “She must have character.
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