"Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. " "There are bad stories, then, just as there are bad people?" "Yes. Sheppard stopped him. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. 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. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows.
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