She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping.
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