Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. But these fears, like those he had recently experienced, speedily vanished, and he prepared to return to the roof, congratulating himself that owing to the opportune falling of the bricks, he had in all probability escaped serious injury. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. She was guided into the dock and prompted by a helpful police inspector.
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