—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. ‘You were right, miss. Besides, it was under false pretences. . You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place.
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