The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 298: what you’re looking at

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

WOODBRIDGE 267 Rise, it is not to me that you must kneel — But we should both kneel, and here, too,’’ he added, pointing toward the nameless grave. ‘“T have been kneeling there this evening,’ answered Jane. “ I have watered that turf with my tears, for I know whose remains lie beneath. And I invoked the sainted spirit of my beloved mistress, — for a saint in heaven I know she must be, —I invoked her sainted spirit, I say, to intercede at the throne of Eternal Grace that my reason might be given back to me, and asoft voice seemed to whisper in my ear that the prayer was heard and that the boon I craved was granted. Then I arose from over the turf of that grave, and I was departing, when I[ beheld the form of some one stop here to contemplate the stone. I beheld you stand awhile on this spot; I marvelled who he could be that thus shared with me the deep, deep interest I feel in this grave. I approached, I recognized you.”’ ‘ And now will you tell me, Jane,’”’ asked Mr. Redcliffe, who had listened with profoundest emotions to her state- ment, “‘ will you tell me whence you learned sufficient to convince you —”’ “Mr. Redcliffe, — for by that name will I still call you,” interrupted Jane, a sudden reminiscence striking her, — “there is this night a human life to be saved, and he who shall be thus saved will tell you all. My knowledge of every- thing is but yet partial; the tale to which I[ listened remains unfinished.”’ | ‘’ And this life that is to be saved?” said Mr. Redcliffe, apprehending for a moment that the poor creature’s intellect was wandering again; and he gazed upon her anxiously to see if his alarming surmise was well founded. ‘No, no,” she exclaimed, penetrating what was passing in his mind, ‘‘ my reason errs not again. It is as I assure you. In that cottage dwells the sexton, who can tell you the tale of this perished one’s hapless fate; and his life is in danger, for the miscreant who did the deed at Liverpool is in the neighbourhood — he is there! ”’ “ What! ”’ ejaculated Redcliffe, ‘‘ Barnes, the murderer of Pollard, the man who escaped from gaol — ”’ “He is there!’’ responded Jane, pointing toward the cottage, ‘“‘ and he contemplates another crime. I was de- termined to frustrate it. That very instant when I encoun- EGOMINIGIOOKS (CO)