She bounced onto her bottom. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. He had not proceeded far when he encountered Sir Rowland, who, having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain.
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