es with intense anxiety. She crushed it to her
bosom, and, again looking at me, repeated, "Go away! go away! begone!"

There was somewhat in the lines of her face, in her tones and gestures,
that pierced to my heart. Added to this, was my knowledge of her
condition; her friendlessness; her poverty; the pangs of unrequited
love; and her expiring infant. I felt my utterance choked, and my tears
struggling for passage. I turned to the window, and endeavoured to
regain my tranquillity.

"What was it," said I, "that brought me hither? The perfidy of Welbeck
must surely have long since been discovered. What can I tell her of the
Villars which she does not already know, or of which the knowledge will
be useful? If their treatment has been just, why should I detract from
their merit? If it has been otherwise, their own conduct will have
disclosed their genuine character. Though voluptuous themselves, it does
not follow that they have laboured to debase this creature. Though
wanton, they may not be inhuman.

"I can propose no change in her condition for the better. Should she be
willing to leave this house, whither is it in my power to conduct her?
Oh that I were rich enough to provide food for the hungry, shelter for
the houseless, and raiment for the naked!"

I was roused from these fruitless reflections by the lady, whom some
sudden thought induced to place the child in its bed, and, rising, to
come towards me. The utter dejection which her features lately betrayed
was now changed for an air of anxious curiosity. "Where," said she, in
her broken English,--"where is Signor Welbeck?"

"Alas!" returned I, "I know not. That question might, I thought, with
more propriety be put to you than me."

"I know where he be; I fear where he be."

So saying, the deepest sighs burst from her heart. She turned from me,
and, going to the child, took it again into her lap. Its pale and sunken
cheek was quickly wet with the mother's tears, which, as she silently
hung over it, dropped fast from her eyes.

This demeanour could not but awaken curiosity, while it gave a new turn
to my thoughts. I began to suspect that in the tokens which I saw there
was not only distress for her child, but concern for the fate of
Welbeck. "Know you," said I, "where Mr. Welbeck is? Is he alive? Is he
near? Is he in calamity?"

"I do not know if he be alive. He be sick. He be in prison. They will
not let me go to him. And"--here her attention and mine was at