” Lord, he was right! But softly now. ’ ‘No, no, go and fetch the men to the house. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. This lifeless appearance was heightened by the extreme sharpness of her features—especially the nose and chin,—and by the emaciation of her limbs, which was painfully distinct through her drapery. But his lips were honourlocked.
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