On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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