Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: “T know this locality well,”’ he muttered, “and must double on them by taking yonder - court. He made a dash ata dark entry, but ere he could turn down it, the ground seemed to give way beneath his feet, and he fell through a cellar flap on to a heap of old boots, shoes, and left-off wearing apparel. In an instant he scrambled to his feet and looked around. . He perceived he had fallen into one of those cellars used as a shop and store-house by a dealer of second-hand clothing. The stench of the fast-expiring wick of a sus- pended oil-lamp, mingled with the musty odour of damp clothes and mildewed leather, and Jack felt a sickening sensation steal over him as he tottered back from the opening, hoping to pre- vent being seen by his pursuers, and leading them to believe that he had given them the slip, by passing up the dark court. A rush of feet along the pavement, and a hubbub of voices along the side of the house, told him that the crowd had taken the court, and, with a smile of satisfaction, he took a long and curious survey of the place in which he was. — There was no one but himself there, and this afforded him considerable gratification, as he thought that in a few minutes he could retire unmolested, and hurry on his way to keep the appointment he had made with Martha Scrivener, in front of Westminster Abbey. ~ When all became still again above, Jack was about to scramble out of the cellar doorway, when he was met by a man coming down. The comer.was a dirty-looking fellow, and evidently scarcely able to keep his feet from the effects of the bad gin he had been drinking, and Jack, anxious to escape, hurriedly slipped on his mask. Down staggered the man till he got to the _ bottom, and then, seeing our hero, he threw up his hands, uttered a loud shriek, and fell face forward among the ‘heap of old boots. “ Now’s my time!” said Jack, darting up the cellar flap. One look told him the coast was clear, and slipping off his mask, he hurried away towards the abbey, before which he arrived free _ from further molestation, and stood before the all-expectant miser’s ward. OHAPTER XLIII. HUSBAND AND WIFE—INSULT HEAPED UPON INJUR¥Y—LOVE TURNED TO HATRED. In her splendid boudoir Jessie Clavering sat ‘upon a satin-covered couch, a picture of grief. Tears were streaming from her eyes, and trickling down her now pale, wan cheeks. Her bosom rose and fell with emotions which shook her soul and lacerated her heart. One. month had she been the legal wife of Richard Clavering. ‘But her wedded life was more miserable than had been the latter part of her mistresshood. She had forced the libertine to do her justice, forced him to lead her to the altar, and confer THE TERROR OF LONDON. > upon her the title of wife, because his coldness had wrung her heart, and under the belief that time would bring back the old love; but, alas! how had she been deceived ! True, she was now a wife in name, but that was all. The coldness of Richard had now grown to positive hatred, and foiled in his attempt to destroy the proofs of their marriage, he strove all he could to make himself a widower by breaking the heart of her who had loved him with all a woman’s love—sacrificed all for him. Taunts, threats, and even blows—for the proud and wealthy libertine even descended to strike the woman he had sworn to love and/cherish— brought not about that consummation so de- voutly to be wished—the death of Jessie ; and he determined to give her heart one pang more ere he shed her blood, for he resolved to rid himself of her, even at the sacrifice of his own peace of mind for ever. He renewed his pursuit of the poor ballet-girl whom Jack had rescued from his unmanly violence ; but learning prudence by the punish- ment he had received that night, he approached his intended victim in a different way, and sought to win her love through her mother. He knew that the mother of the girl was poor, and that she consented to her only daugh- ter taking to the stage because it kept them from the workhouse, and the wily rascal ap- proached the old lady with words of commisera- tion for her altered circumstances, and anxious fear for her daughter’s happiness, lest some one would take her from the boards, where he pointed out to the only too credulous dame that sin and shame abounded to such a degree as to preclude all hope of her child escaping its con- taminating influences. : In Bridget Hendon he founda willing hstener ; the life her daughter led was distasteful to her, and every hour of her absence was but an age of misery and suspense to the anxious mother. She knew her beautiful Mildred was pure and innocent, but she dreaded lest that beauty she prized “so much should prove a curse—become the means of luring her to that fate she so much dreaded. So the serpent-tongue of the libertine won the old lady’s heart ere he again met the daughter, and she was as anxious that he should possess the affections of Mildred as he was him- self. And when at length he did meet the poor ballet. girl in her poverty-stricken home, and Mildred turned from him in disgust and loath- ing, the wretch found a champion im the woman who would have lain down her life to shield her beloved child. But the mother believed Richard Clavering all he professed to be—believed him the soul of honour ; that he sought her daughter’s love only that he might rescue her from a life so fraught with danger to her reputation and future peace of mind. — Mildred loved her mother, beheved her the most far-sighted ; and well knowing she would not say or do anything to harm her, she suffered her coldness and contempt to fade, and when in abject tones the scoundrel pleaded for forgive- ness for the past, excused the warmth of his acts | (FONMAING 122 ee ee ee 7 JOCKS CGO