ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. If there were any pearls, none came into the light.
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