P. . “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. ’ ‘Ah. I tell you this child would have been strangled. He'd never forgive you. Worse than any man. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection.
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