Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. You’re of age— you’re of age. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. He hated himself a little for it.
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