“Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. Wood dandled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well-meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good will, that he had well-nigh silenced him most effectually. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. I love you—unendurably.
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