She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. Tears sprang to her eyes. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. “Yes, but I act older than I look. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. 1.
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