“You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. Give me the keys and the light. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. Instantly seizing it, the young man placed it in the carriage, shut the door, and commanded his servants to drive off. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. Capes bore a face of infinite perplexity.
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