The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 282: what you’re looking at

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

THE GRAVESTONE 250 ‘¢ T am well pleased, my poor woman,’’ answered Jonathan, ‘to find that you are thus independent of casual charity. But why are you not with your friends? — for to possess money argues to a certain extent the possession of friends — ”’ ‘‘Yes, — yes, I have friends,” ejaculated Crazy Jane, — ‘‘ friends who sought to do everything for me; but no, my wandering spirit would not suffer me to stay where they placed me. Do you know, old man,” she added, advancing close up to him, and speaking in a low voice, as well as with a certain mysterious significancy of look, “do you know that if ever I remain long in one place, something whispers in my ear that I must go forth on my travels again, for that there is something which I seek, and that something I must find.”’ ‘And what is this something which you seek?” asked the old sexton, in a gentle voice, for he pitied the poor woman. She had fallen into a deep reverie; she did not hear the question, or if she did, she chose not to answer it, and for upwards of a minute did silence thus prevail. At length suddenly raising her eyes, she fixed her looks upon the grave- stone with the strangely brief inscription, and abruptly asked, ‘‘ Who lies there? ”’ ‘A poor lady,’’ responded old Carnabie, “‘ who died in this village under very distressing circumstances.” ‘‘ Yes, yes —I remember; you said so the other night,’’ ejaculated Crazy Jane. ‘I heard you telling that man who was with you— But, oh, my memory is so bad!’’ and then she pressed her hand, as if with a sensation of pain, against her forehead. “You told me on that night,’ continued Jonathan Carnabie, “‘ that you wanted to ask me some questions. If you like to put them now, I will give you any information that lies in my power.”’ “That lady,” said Crazy Jane, keeping her eyes still riveted upon the gravestone, ‘‘ was she not mad? Did I not hear you say that it was a deep, silent, brooding madness? Yes, yes, those were the words!” cried the poor creature, with a sudden exultation at having recollected them. ‘And what I said was the truth,’”’ answered Jonathan Carnabie. “ It was a sad tale, and if I thought you could understand it, or follow my words while I tell it — ”’ “I shall understand it,” interrupted Jane. ‘‘ Yes, my CORNICLOOOKS (CO)