Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 224: what you’re looking at

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226 Grasper feared if any mention was made of that thoughtless and illegal deed, it might tend to dispel the illusion under which the woman laboured, and defeat the object he had in hand. No wonder, then, he was anxious to change the subject, The villain trembled lest his own villany should become apparent. But Jane would not immediately forego con- yersation upon that point, for she said— “ Are you not, then, guilty of the wicked deed laid to your charge ?”’ “Can you love me and think so?” asked Grasper, evasively and impatiently. ‘I would not believe it, if you said it was false,” she replied. “ But if true, I would sacri- fice my life to shield you from the consequences of your crime; for 1 am your wife, James, and in weal or woe will cling to you.” “ You are my wife—my true, kind little wife,” said the hoary-headed rascal. “But it is not true. Someone has been playing a silly prank upon you, because they know how happy we both are. There—let it drop. Don’t think of it for a moment. Was not that a clorious sun- set the evening we sat beneath the porch ?” “When?” asked the woman. ‘You know that evening we met?” “No. The clouds were leaden, and a storm was brewing,’ was the reply. “Damn it!” muttered Grasper. ‘‘ ’m wrong, and must be careful how I speak.” Then he added, quickly and aloud— “To be sure they were.” “Then why did you say it was'a glorious sun- set ?” asked the woman. “Why?” ‘Can’t you guess 2?’ “No.” ical “To see if you recollected the time as well as Lk ; that was all, my little wife—that was oP] Jane turned her dull orbs upon his smiling face, and shook her head, reprovingly. » ** Can I ever forget it? Never,” she said, “never, unless” “ Unless what, dear Jane ?” ** Some act of thine should drive reason and recollection from’me ; then I might, but not till then. Madness alone, James, could render me forgetful of those happy hours we have spent together; and I am sure I should go mad were you to bring shame upon us both, or I were to lose you, my dear, dear husband.” And as she concluded, that poor demented woman flung herself upon the bosom of the wretch who had caused her reason to forsake its throne, and buried her face upon his shoulder. Were not the heart of Ralph Grasper callous to every feeling he would have sank in shame and remorse at the feet of her whom he now folded to his bosom. But not one pang penetrated his adamantine breast—not one chord vibrated in his black and unfeeling heart, To him pity and remorse were strangers— avarice and revenge alone found a home in his bosom. A smile rested on his facea smile of hellish — _ SPRING-HEEL’D JACK : THE TERROR OF LONDON. triumph ; and in that moment 4e forgot all the punishment he had received at the hands of Jack, and only thought of the wretched victim of his baseness. He was suddenly aroused by the distant rumble of wheels over the hard gravel road, and raising the head of Jane from his shoulder, he said— | ‘‘T hear a coach coming. If it is empty, we will drive home, and have such pieasant talk about old times, and when I came courting you in the porch among the roses.” “‘ Oh, that will be nice, James,” she said ; “for I love to think of those happy days, though, heaven knows! we have always been happy since. Haven’t we?” “Ah! happy as happy!” he replied. ‘But hush, now; for here is the coach. Oh! it is empty, for the driver holds up bis whip.” Grasper motioned to the man, who had slaci- ened the pace of his horse as he came near them, and the man drove towards them. ‘Want a coach, sir?” “Yes.” ; The man dismounted, and sprang to the door of his vehicle, which he flung open, and stood glaring in thoughtful surprise upon both Grasper and Jane, as the former hurriedly handed the latter into the coach. ‘“‘ Where to, sir ?’’ he said, as Jane seated her- self, and Ralph turned towards him. Grasper whispered the docality in Bethnal- green, where Bill Jackson resided, and then, ordering the man to drive quickly, leaped into the vehicle, and pulled the door to himself. The man scratched his head, and mounted his box with the thoughtful ‘expression still on his face—an expression which rested there long after he had driven from the spot. ‘Drove that chap afore certain of it,’’ he muttered, as he whipped up the animal, “ and her, too—but can’t tell where. Don’t like the look of him. Don’t seem square. Something's wrong. Tumbled her in too quick. Whispered where he wanted to go, as if he didn’t want her to hear. She don’t seem right. Can’t make it out. No business of mine. Don’t like it. It’s queer—very queer—damned queer. Seen ‘em both afore—not together. Know the cut of his sib. Wonder if he ever bilked me? No, *tain’t that. It’s something. Can’t tumble, but don’t like it. Come up, will ye, you-old raseal ! Go along! Gee!”’ | ait And thus giving expression to his confased feelings, the man whipped up his horse, and drove with all the speed be could to Bethnal- green, And while he was thus occupied, Ralph Grasper sat beside the imbecile Jane, with his arm around her waist, giving utterance to sen- tences which he thought best calculated to feed tke strange illusion which had fastened upon her brain—that he himself was none other than her dead husband, James Slater, the man whose death lay at his door, and for whose fearful end he would, one day, have to render up an account. And he succeeded even better than he dared. to hope he could. Still he was anxious and un- easy lest a dawn of reason shouid steal across her soul ere he could place her in the keeping ot —_—_—— | ICO GOmic —_— ~~ -_—_- ——+— 2 (S-cOMm