She walked
down the corridor alone, not noticing that he had not followed her,
and had just passed out of sight when an officer stepped up to him
and said:
"Your name is Coleman?"
"Yes."
"Sorry to hear it. My name is Nadin. You know me, I think. You
must consider yourself my prisoner."
Zachariah was in prison for two years. He had not been there three
months when his wife died.
* * * *
Let us now look forward to 1821; let us walk down one of the new
streets just beginning to stretch northwards from Pentonville; let us
stop opposite a little house, with a little palisade in front,
enclosing a little garden five and twenty feet long and fifteen feet
broad; let us peep through the chink between the blind and the
window. We see Zachariah and Pauline. Another year passes; we peep
through the same chink again. A cradle is there, in which lies Marie
Pauline Coleman; but where is the mother? She is not there, and the
father alone sits watching the child.
CHAPTER XVI--COWFOLD
Cowfold, half village, half town, lies about three miles to the west
of the great North Road from London to York. As you go from London,
about fifty miles from the Post-Office in St.
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