“To the best of my belief,” she said, with quiet dignity, “I have never seen either of you before in my life. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. Leonardo was to me perhaps like a father, not a lover as you think. I’m not to study, I’m not to grow. You may well say it's impossible! His Majesty's jail of Newgate is admirably guarded, I must say. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. Then she begins to have visions of what is forbidden to all mortals: knowledge of the future. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night.
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