She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. " "Did you discover any trace of footsteps?" inquired Jack eagerly. Sheppard left Mr. Am I going to die?” “I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. In worldly matters Gay was not fortunate.
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