You met Sir Rowland at the house of a Romisch priest, Father Spencer. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. ‘Do not be foolish.
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