‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. She had lost it. Someone ought to be with him until the doctor arrives. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked.
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