"But I agree with Hogarth, that he is precisely the person to do what he has done. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. The body of Jack Sheppard, meanwhile, was borne along by that tremendous host, which rose and fell like the waves of the ocean, until it approached the termination of the Edgeware Road. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. As it was, the mob went on alternately hooting and huzzaing as the names of Wild and Sheppard were pronounced, while some individuals, bolder than the rest, thrust their faces into the coach-window, and assured Jack that he should never be taken to Tyburn. Now I’d like the rest of your story. " "You know best," replied Jonathan, sneeringly; "but if I were in your place I would take the chance of a future and uncertain risk to avoid a present and certain peril.
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