What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. With this view, Jack was carried—for he was no longer able to move without assistance— to a ward called the Castle, situated over the gateway on the western side, in what was considered the strongest part of the jail. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. 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. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. .
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