" "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion.
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