Mrs. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. He singled out my poor husband from a crowd of other felons; and you know how right he was in that case, Sir. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. "He comes!" cried a thousand voices, and the shout ascended to Smithfield, descended to Snow Hill, and told those who were assembled on Holborn Hill that Sheppard had left the prison. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. An electric light flashed out from the wall. His face was white. And such slight relief as I can afford should have been offered earlier, if I'd known where you'd taken refuge after your unfortunate husband's—" "Execution, you would say, Sir," added Mrs.
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