Black Bess; or, The Knight of the Road — A Tale of the Good Old Times — page 225: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CE TO ae ce a, ED PPA te A AE 2 re SLUESKIN: A ROMANCE, 993 They knew better than to disobey. On his hands and feet, then, he crawled to this little pond, and when he reached the edge, rolled t:imgelf fuirly unto it. The cold water was delightfully refreshing. The bottom of the pond was composed of smooth gtones, and the water was not more than a foot in depih, and so he fairly bathed himself in it. His clothes were burnt and smouldering in many places. But now they were extinguished. I{is impatience, however, to ascertain the condition of Kidgworth Bess was too great to allow him to stay lenger in the enjoyment of his cold bath. He scrambled out, therefore, but he was officiously assisted by his men. His appearance would have excited the laughter of most people, and a smile did flit over the faces of his followers. He looked likeademon. ° His head aud face were blackened with fire and smoke. His clothing hung in tatters about him. ‘* Where is the girl ?”’ he cried. ‘Here, Mr. Wild. This way, if ae please.” Jonathan growled, and followed the man across the lawn to a place where Edgworth Bess had been laid. A. garden seat had been selected for this purpose. Her clothes had been extinguished by the men, but she vas again insensible. Her fair face and hands were burnt and blistored in many places, but she had not received anything like such injuries as Jonathan Wild. At the first glance, so death-like did she appear, that Jonathan fancied he had had all his trouble for nothing. But he was assured by the men that it was nothing more than a faint. **Run, some ono,” he cried, “and fetch a carriaze of some sort. Haste!” A. couple of the janizaries set off at a run to carry out the order. Then Jonathan, feeling that, for tho moment, he could do nothing more for the poor persecuted girl, turned his attention to the burning mansion. It was now nothing but one mags of flames. The colonel was right when he calculated that the fire would quickly communicate itself to every part of his dwelling. It had ‘done so; and, although so short a time had elapsed since he struck the first spark, the place was almost utterly consumed. Nothing had been seen of Colonel Thorne. The men had carefully kept watch all round, in order to see that he did not make his escape. Jonathan gazed upon the scene of devastation before him with satisfaction. He had triumphed. Doubly triumphed. The much-dreaded pirate band had been exterminated. The pirate-chief had perished in the fire which his own hands had kindled. He had escaped death half-a-dozen times by a miracle. But more than all, he had recovered possessicu of that which he valued above all other things on earth. Edgworth Bess. Yes; the poor girl, who seemed fated to meet with nothing but misfortune, was once more in the power of that bold, bad man. We fairly tremble when we think of the dangers she has, up to the present time, passed through. But we shudder when we think of what there is in store for her. Do not, however, let us anticipate the course of events. It is a struggle of feeble right against powerful wrong. Which will be victor P By his order, Jonathan was taken to the window, through which he had made his desperate leap. The inside of this room was now lke a furnace, Surely no one could survive in such a heat. But suddenly, as he gazes, he observes a slight move- ment of some dark object within. Jonathan strained his eyes, and approached ag near as the intense heat would let him. Yes, something moved. But what? Could life have had so strong a hold upon the ferocious pirate-chief as not to have quitted him. It would seem so. An arm was raised aloft and then another. Then came forth a scream of agony, which made itself heard above all other sounds. Next, one blackened arm waa placad over tho window- The other followed. Then a charred and blackened masa slowly drew itself up upon it. Jonathan turned sick at the sight. “ It will be a mercy to put him out of his misery!” he said, and as he spoke he drew a pistol from his belt, aimed it carefully, and fired. There was a report and a shriek. The blackened form, which was all that remained of the pirate-chief, toppled backwards into the furnace. Ere, however, he could actually havo fallen, the whole roof of tho rambling building fell in, burying everything beneath its ruins. Such was the end of the wealthy and envied Colonel Thorne, alias Captain Howlet, the pirate. a & ® * 4 % % x > 4 On the morning of the third Jay after the incidents just recorded, a coach, drawn by two horses, went lumbering along the Old Bailey. The equipage itself, as well as the cattle which drew it, gave token that they had jnst made a long and fatiguing journey. It was just about sunrise, but the gun had not yet made himself visible to the dwollers in the city. hs At that early hour the generally busy stroet was quite deserted. There was no one to observe the coach, which camo up the Old Bailey from the direction of Ludgate-hill. Upon reaching the corner, the driver turned his cattle to the right, and, after proceeding a few paces, came to a halt close to the prison wail, or rather opposite a gloomy, dilapidated house which adjoined it. his house, which had every appearance of being unin- habited, must be known to the reader of tlis history. It would seem, however, that the arrival of the coach was expected, for no sooner did it stop than the front door of the house was thrown open, and a man appeared upon the threshold. At tho same moment the handle of the coach-door was turned, and the door itself flung open. A. man emerged. One glance at his hidcons rhysiognomy weuld have enabled any one to recognise him. It was Jonathan Wild! Turning round, he put one foot on the step, and lifted out of the carriago a sleeping or insensible form. That was Edgworth Beas. , ee man on the threshold stood in a deferential atti- ude. That was Tonks. Jonathan Wild once more carried, a8 a prisoner, into his house the heroine of this story, the peay, persecuted heiress, Edgworth Bess. Heaven help her! OHAPTER CLY. JACK SHEPPARD AND HIS COMRADES ATTACK THE OFFICERS AND FIND THEMSELVES OUTNUMBERED. THE report of the pistol which Flood fired at John Roots, the carpenter, as he was descending the staircase, sounded in the silence of that house like the discharge of a cannon. Certainly it would rouse the whole neighbourhood. The cry, too, which came from the lips of John Roots was loud and ear-piercing. Then he fell with a dull, sickening crash down the rest of the staircase. * Fool!” cried Jack Sheppard, in an angry voice, turning to Matthew Flood, who was quietly replacin g the pistol in nis pocket. ‘ Fool! you have ruined all! : “Fool yourself! roared Flood, angrily. “Youd better mind whet you're at. I’ve got another pistol im my pocket.” wt ee ty Che ed igen GP Laer a ce acre ee ae ee pee Sareea 8S. bow 4 creas ag, ppt Mone Rs one = = a ‘ ee EO SR aT oT 2-6 aT” ESD Were ser hap ener eee er Wey gage wear wngagne SD ee a a Dn pag Ore COmIIcboooks (SO) 5}