” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. 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. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. I always thought that I could find and destroy all of her children, but there was no keeping up with it.
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