Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

96 was indeed a poor, ill-clad woman, who had fallen asleep in a doorway, and who was hurled off the step on to the pavement by the force of the con- cussion. Jack paused on the moment, and, stooping, lifted the wretched being to her feet, as she ut- tered a frightened cry of pain and terror. ‘“My good woman,” said Jack, “I sincerely "regret my carelessness, and hope I have not hurt ) ou.” : The poor creature tore herself rudely from his hold. ! : “ Hurt me!” she said; “what does it matter who hurts me?” ‘‘T should be sorry to do so,” said Jack ; ‘and if in my hurry I caused you pain I am sorry for it.” : “‘T dare say you are,” said the other, bitterly. | But it’s the way of the world, to hurt the poor | eee ort ew lee oe eC SC and the starving. Once down, you’re kept down —kicked down—trampled down. Who cares for the wretch without home, food, or friends? | They are obstructions in the way, that may be | hurled aside by the foot of the more fortunate.” | As the woman spoke, she moved out of the shadow into the dim glare of a dirty gas-lamp, and Jack fairly started as his eye fell upon a form so wasted, and a face so wan, that starva- tion and misery were imprinted in every fea- tnre. “Oh, God!” he muttered, “what a sight !— what an object!” | “Yes, what an object!” echoed the woman, | bitterly - “only fit to be hurled about till death ' relieves her sufferings !” | ‘“ Woman,” said Jack, “ tell me what I can do for you.” | “ Begone, and: leave me to die in peace upon that stone bed.” . | She pointed to the step from which Jack had so unintentionally hurled her. “ What suffering and want must have reduced , youto this!” said Jack. ‘“‘ You are starving— _ dying—and that in the midst of plenty.” ‘Yes,’ she replied, in a kind of hiesing whis- per; “‘starving, with food around mo, and not suffered to rest my weakened frame even on the cold stones.” “This must not be,” cried Jack. ‘I see that want has embittered your heart against huma- | nity. But you are unjust. You must not, shall | not be suffered to starve in the streets, whatever | may have brought you to such depths of wretch- | edness, Sorry indeed am I that I threw you _ from the step, but glad indeed Iam that it gives | me an opportunity of relieving your wants.’ He thrust his hand into his pocket, and took out a few coins. ‘‘ Here, take these,and get food and lodging,” he said, forcing them into the wretched woman’s hand. The poor wretch seemed dumbfounded at this her sunken eyes, first upon the coins, and then upon Jack, and finally bursting into an hysterical but hollow laugh. | “Gold!” she cried. ‘‘Gold! gold? Is it: good money, or”— : cM what iniustice do you complain?” said ack, unexpected generosity, and stood glaring with Oh! but is it rs Vee SP ING-HEEL’D JACK : THE TERROR OF LONDON. | around a well-furnished sleeping apartment in: n> + ete ~ and ain Oi ‘7 ;~ ey ea 7 «a aee vet * . — re a ~- = (. ta” o+* She paused as her eyes encounted those of Jack, “ My poor woman,” said Jack, “go and seek food and shelter. How could you come to this fearful state, and’ not seek relief ?” “T have sought it,” she said. “I have asked for bread, but met with insult. Poverty was — enough to endure without that. Steal, I must not; beg, I dare not. But I ought not to be like this. I have no right to starve. But the poor can’t get justice ; that’s only for those who can pay for it, not for such as me. But you—you have got a heart. You are not like—but, there! why should I tell my serrews and sufferings to others? Thank you for this; and God bless you ;. though it will soon be gone. And then—why then, the pangs of hunger and the cold stones. Well, well! Perhaps justice may comeinthe j{ © meantime. Who knows ?—who knows ?” Ney The woman clutched his arm, and pointing down the street with her attenuated finger, sa4id— | ‘Do you see that house? The largest one, — with the lamp in the fanlight.” Jack replied in the affirmative. . . | ** There lives aman who calls himself my uncle. I was his ward; for my parents died when very young. He has robbed me of my just rights— the infernal miserly villain! Yes, that iian— the owner of that house, witholds from mé that which is mine by right; although he denies even himself almost the common necessaries of life. But for him, I should not be thus. But there, there! I am starving, arid will seek some place where I can get food with this gold. God bless you!” And the woman hurried from Jack’s side, and was lost in the distance of the dark street. _ Jack took a good look at the house pointed out to him, shook his head sadly, and hurried away. i CHAPTER XXXIV. JACK FORCES THE MISER TO RESTORE THE FORTUNE ) . OF HIS WARD. | A tan rushlight threw a dim, ghostly licht | the large house, which had been pointed out to | our hero by the starving woman the night before | which we are about to pay it a visit, and lit up a large French bedstead, in which a man of about sixty years of age lay sleeping. The hard lines on his face bespoke one of a grasping, avaricious turn of mind—one from whom the poor would find no relief and the debtor no sympathy. Seldom, perhaps, did a man bear his character in his features to such a degree as did the owner of the house in question—one look was sufficient to turn a suitor away from asking a favour. A hard, grinding man, indeed, was Jerard Scrivener, and so, to their cost, had many a poor fellow found when unable to meet his demands. _ A rent-collector and broker had Jerard been till within a few years of the date at which we make his acquaintance, but latterly he was a money-lender in small sums to the poor mechanic or small tradesman. Scrivener had never held house property of his own: he found it more profitable to collect rents on commission, and now, although able to nicbooks.co re x “ ‘ —_—..