Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

30 “ There is enough of this for to-night,” he said to himself, as he rose and looked around him. “ Now I will go.” “No, you won't,” said a voice behind him, and a man who had stolen noiselessly to the spot laid his hand upon Jack’s shoulder. ‘Here he is!” he added, shouting at the top is voice. ‘I’ve got the ghost—lI’ve got him!” “Hold him tight, then, my fine fellow!” said Jack, giving himself a sudden twist from the man’s hold. . “Vou don’t escape—here, some of you, come and help me!” he shouted again, seizing Jack by the shoulder. A loud shout arose in answer to the man’s call, and several persons hurried over the graves to his assistance. At this moment the clock struck one. “Time’s up!” said Jack, dealing the man a blow in the face, and, wrenching himself from his hold, bounded up and over the iron railings, CHAPTER XIT. JACK MEETS WITH ELLEN — THE SEAMSTRESS’S ERRAND — A STRUGGLE — THE SUICIDE AND ATTEMPT AT RESCUE. Amp shouts of disappointment and exclamations of surprise, Jack alighted safely on the other side of the railings, at a spot where no one was about. Turning, and uttering a loud laugh of derision at his baffled foes, he hurried away as quickly as possible, keeping to the back streets, in ease of pursuit, which he feared would be hot and fierce should the body of Joe Filcher be discovered. It was about two o’clock, when he strolled leisurely alone Bishopsgate. He had just hghted a cigar, and as he blew the wreaths of smoke from his lips was thinking over his night’s work, when a hurried footstep close behind caused him to glance over his shoulder, and an exclamation rise to his lips. Scarcely was it uttered, when the figure which had called it forth passed him with a nervous, hurried gait, and sped along towards London Bridge. “Surely,” he muttered, “‘I have seen that delicate figure before, and the face, too, or I am much mistaken! It was but a hurried glance I had, either now or a few hours since, yet I am certain it has the same woe-begone features. What can she do here at this hour ?” The female whose step had attracted his notice, and who had hurried by him in such a quick, nervous manner, was none other than the poor seamstress, Ellen Folder. a The wretched girl, as soon as the excitement had somewhat subsided in her miserable dwelling, had returned to her room, and, anxious about her work, had gone to the window, to find that it was no longer suspended over the sill. The shock which this discovery gave her for a time seemed almost to deprive her of breath ; then she hurried into the street, but of course found not the bundle. ~ Gone!” she said, in heart-broken accents. “Oh! Tam ruined—undone! Levy will never ea tit ae erent teeemstnenstetentiaieeses- al SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON. i could bear no more. — believe me if I tell him the whole truth! He | will accuse me of making away with it—demand | its price, or send me to jail! I cannot pay him for it, and he will have no mercy! What's to ) be done—what’s to be done !” - bran ilar Poverty and toil had already Wea eRe her nerves to such a degree that she was unable to bear up against this new misfortune, and alo | and friendless in the world, with a dread of a. prison and the brand of a felon, she hurriedly put on her bonnet and shawl, and hurried from the house. ae Where did she intend to go? Anywhere—anywhere ! 7 She knew not—cared not—whither her foot- steps Jed her—anywhere from the wrath of him who paid less for honest labour than honest | pay for the support of the criminal. Th: Her life had long been a wretched one Searely ee ° ' ~ a” _— a ii — ' 3 *. - = ee, early and late for a paltry pittance scarcely sufficient to keep soul and body together, an now the cup of misery was full to the brim. It — She reached Bishopsgate church. it ied _ This edifice was the first object which had attracted her attention since she left her httle room to go she cared not whither, ere She paused for a moment, and looked at ihe tall white stones which marked the last home of . the departed, and then with a deep sigh turned away, muttering to herself— Tt gps ‘They are at peace! Why should I wish live, when nothing but misery is before mel What is the use of life to a wretch like me Better that I rest in the silent grave than liveas Ihave done! Yes, they are at peace! Why - should I live—why should I live, with nothing ~ to live for—nobody to care for me, or even give * me a kind word! Heaven forgive me! I am. sorely tried.” ae But for the sound of the clock striking the hours, and the sight of the churchyard, she might have returned home to her wretched dwelling when the fever of her brain had abated, and her mind become somewhat more at ease, but now her thoughts ran into another channel, and that was—death ! ka Relief from all earthly suffering— escape fro the vengeance of a hard-handed and hard-hearted employer ! : er On, then, with seething brain, and quick, tot- tering, nervous steps—on, over the flags of the London streets in the dead hour of the night, with only the sound of her own footfall to jar upon her ears! ie On, with beating heart and tearful eye—on, with pale cheeks rendered more ghastly by the flickering lamps, towards where the river wound, its serpentine course! Sa ee On to the goal she had resolved to reach ere morning dawned upon the slumbering city, On to rest her wearied soul and body—on, on. to the grave. <i rial Her mind was made up—her resolves were formed. : Joiet Before her was oblivion—behind her, poverty insult, and the jail ! ey v8 Tei She would not hesitate. No, she would hurry forward to reach that ** bourne from whence no. traveller returns,” , | Saal 5-2 i = = — —— — P 7 ~ = _- es ‘ oa puns uj ae. - = s i — _ : | a — = s " _ a Ter * - a — | 900 Te SsiGO co m 9