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. He drew out the check and the editorial letter. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. By a sort of instinct. I set myself to find employment. "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred, rising.
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