“Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble. Even now she was dazed. " Finding it useless to struggle further, Mr. Stanley changed his key. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow.
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