Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 288: what you’re looking at

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

29() Jack, “for she never could keep up sucha run- ning fire of words. They say drink loosens the tongue, and here we have proof of it. I think, certainly, she is not inebriated now, but I doubt much if she would not be with another taste, and if this is the treatment poor old Tomkins eets when she is sober, heaven defend us! what must it be like when she’s tipsy? It’s a sad thing to see a respectable man’s wife give way to such a degrading vice—very sad; and, if J were Tomkins, I’d forsake my favourite sport to keep a watch upon her actions, and see that she did not have toomuch. I daresay it vexes her to see a man-stand hour after hour looking at his-own shadow in the water—a shadow, by the way, which, if a true likeness of his form, must be somewhat attenuated. Still, she for- . gets the respect due to herself when she forgets ' that for her husband. Egad! but it’s a strange world, and the longer we live and the more we see, the more strange it appears.”’ By this time the aged lady had reached the high-road, followed by Tomkins. carrying the’ tin ean in his hand, and the fishing-rod under) his arm ; his long, thin legs looking even longer and thinner than usual, so tightly did his wet carments cling to his limbs. Here Mrs. Tomkins turned for the first time since she left the spot of meeting with her hus- band. Jacl: saw the movement, and shrunk back into the shadow of a large lime. ‘‘There’s a picture !—there’s a picture!” said the lady, measuring her trembling spouse with her eyes, and pointing derisively at his wet gar- ments with her forefinger. ‘‘ Ain’t you ashamed to go along the road in that state, or have you lost all shame, Mr. Tomkins? Have you drowned all self-respect and common decency in the water you are so fond of dabbling in ? What will people say if they meet us? ‘They'll say— and rightly too—what a fearful affliction that poor woman has to bear, by being tied up toa dirty, disreputable old man ; and well they may, Mr. Tomkins—well they may.” Tomkins drew back terrified, as his wife stopped in her walk ; but now, as she gave in- dications of starting on again, ‘Tompkins hitched the rod higher under his arm, and, with some show of boldness, remarked— ‘‘ Hold! Im no older than you are, ma’am,”’ Mrs. Tomkins stopped dead short. A blush of wounded pride suffused her rather coarse features, ‘* Not older than Lam! You good for nothing aged mummy !’’ she shrieked. ‘‘ You are old enough to be my grandfather, and you know you}- are. Me, old! me! Don’t you raise my temper, Mr. Tomkins; now don’t. I’m cool as a cucum- ber now, despite your conduct ; but don’t teaze me, Mr. Tomkins ; don’t make lying assertions, or you'll find I can get in a passion ; yes, Mr. Tomkins, in a passion ! ” ‘Of course, you are not in one now?” said Tomkins, in a meek tone. “No, sir! Iam not, sir! You never saw me in a passion, sir; though, heaven knows ! you are enough to make a saint boil with rage. No, sir, I’m calm, and you know it; but I won’t be answerable for myself if you goad me too far. MEA Ls OT ee COMMITEE DOOK SPRING-HEEL’D JACK : THE TERROR OF LONDON. Don’t throw out such insinuations about my age, when you know you are an old man to me.”’ 0 ‘“T know the clerk put down fifty on the re- gister when we were married, and that’s only six years ago,” said Tomkins. “Mr. Tomkins— Mr. Tomkins!” his wife. “Oh! you vile man!” “Fifty! And you know I ain't forty yet. No, nor thirty-five, either.” “Oh! you—you ”—- Mrs. Tomkins did not finish the sentence, otherwise than by a stamp of the foot, a flounce of the body, and a quick turn of her back upon him. : gasped Tomkins grinned. He saw that he had got — the best of it this time. “ Only thirty-five, ma’am ?” he said. ‘* How strange—very strange, when that scapegrace son of yours is thirty-six.” | Mrs. Tomkins fairly screamed. : “Yes, ma’am, thirty-six! So you see if you are not telling a lie, he must have been born before his mother,” said Tomkins, his lank lees fairly trembling at the pleasure he experienced in being even for once with his scolding wife. ‘‘Qh! was ever a poor woman allied to such a monster!” groaned the laay. “ Mr. Tom ins, TV’'ll drown myself, if’’ ‘“Do, there’s a good creature, do!” cried Tomkins, quickly. “ You’d make fine bait, and I'd fish all over the spot where you went down. Lor’, how I should enjoy the sport—rare sport —fine sport there’d be! Do, Mrs. Tomkins, do, and there’s a good soul. Roach, dace, carp, jack! Oh! what a splendid haul !”’ And the old gentleman positively looked radiant with the idea.”’ | Mrs. Tomkins stood looking at the-~ thin fisure before her, as if she could not believe the evidence of her senses. Was that shadowy form Mr. Tomkins? Was that him—always so meek towards her —who expressed a wish that she would consign her body to the stream to bait fishes, and so enhance the pleasures of his favourite sport ? Could it be his tongue that gave utterance to such a wish ? It must be he. believe it. | But there was no mistake now. And Mrs. Tomkins drew ‘herself up, furious in her wrath, before the attenuated man she called husband. If a look could have slain him, he had been dead at her feet. But it could not. And so Tomkins returned her stare, and waited for what was to follow, swinging the tin can backwards and forwards in his hand. It was a Jong time coming, however. The lady’s indignation and horror were so creat that she could not articulate. a The words seemed as if they had to be torn And yet she could hardly up, and when they did come it was with a per- fect burst. ‘* Mr.—Mr. Tomkins, I—I—oh!” Overpowered with her feelings, she could say no more. | 3 . | But the look she fixed upon him was-quite as A (@) ee