The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. "My invitation did not extend to them. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. 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. ] "So much the better. 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. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. Not so Gosse. . ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. Its parents have perished. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea.
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