” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. ” He glanced over at her cockeyed, and then returned his gaze to the road. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be.
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