The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

THE SUPPER DEVOURER 65 ‘Last words? ’’ repeated Ernestina, trembling all over as she knelt before him, for it struck her that this phrase was indicative of her doom. | “You are a fool. I don’t want to hurt you, unless you make me,’’ resumed the Hangman. ‘ But what I mean to say is just simply this. Twice have you done your best to make an end of me, once when you thought you was sticking a dagger into me on Westminster Bridge, and last night, or, rather, this morning, when you shoved me into the chair. If I didn’t mean to be revenged, I shouldn’t be flesh and blood. But I do mean revenge, and that is by making you my mistress. Or else I will send every inch of this blade through that lovely bosom of yours, down into your very heart. So now decide.” Ernestina remained upon her knees, but with her hands no longer outstretched or her looks upraised. Her arms fell before her, and her head drooped on her bosom, giving her the air of a kneeling penitent. She was abandoning herself to despair, the stupor of dismay was coming over her; her ideas were growing confused, her senses seemed to be leaving her. ‘““ Now, then, get up, dress yourself, and let us depart,”’ said the Hangman. But no response was given him, and the unhappy lady, already upon her knees, fell with her face downward upon the floor, where she lay senseless. | When she awoke to consciousness again, she was lying on the bed, and the Hangman was sprinkling water on her face. A conviction that she had experienced fresh outrage struck her as if with a death-blow. ‘“‘ You are killing me, I am dying,’’ she murmured, in a faint voice, but still. there was an expression of ineffable horror in her looks as she averted them from the Hangman’s counte- nance. “Oh, that’s all nonsense,” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Women don’t die like this. Besides, you are young and strong and healthy enough. If it was the prince that was with you, you wouldn’t be dying with anything, unless it was pleasure, but because a genelman of my profession has took a fancy to you le “Oh, if you have any compassion left, if you have any feeling in your heart,’? moaned the wretched Ernestina, ““leaveme. Iam dying.” (C(O)INN) G (O JI WKS at in