She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. Surely it was a dream. “It is Rhea’s infant. “Please not now. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him. Now, Sir. He knew what he knew. "Do not despair!" echoed Mrs. Her confession was still unmade. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
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