"Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. Though by no means so extensive or commodious as the modern prison, Old Newgate was a large and strongly-built pile. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. There was no response. But she perceived that to tell Manning of her Ramage adventures as they had happened would be like tarring figures upon a water-color. ‘Come, Hilary. .
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