In a moment, Roding and Lucilla joined him. 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. It was painted in the early seventeenth century by a minor artist named DuPre. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. How Blueskin underwent the Peine Forte et Dure. That knot also would be cut. He was manifestly exerting his mind for her, and she found herself fully disposed to justify his interest.
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