" "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. I heard John was talking about you again from Jenny McIntyre. XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “Nor am I now,” he answered.
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