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. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. "Ah!" ejaculated Mrs. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. \"So did I.
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