Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. I'll take them back with me. Then he turned to Anna. She turned quickly. “I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. 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.
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