"Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. “It really is not necessary. His statement was treated with derision. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast.
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