ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. He singled out my poor husband from a crowd of other felons; and you know how right he was in that case, Sir. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian.
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