Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 260: what you’re looking at

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No.” The young man looked disappointed and srieved. ‘“ Be advised,” said Jack, “by me. You are weak and tired, and need rest. Besides, there is much to be done here, and I myself have need of rest, and am ill-fitted for the journey. Seek out a respectable undertaker, and have that poor woman’s remains placed in a cofin. Then obtain a lodging, and go to bed; and at this hour to-morrow morning I will meet you here and accompany you to where the Ellen Folder of my acquaintance is to be found. If you exert your- self too much now, you will be laid up.”’ ‘Sir, my anxiety must be my excuse for ap- pearing so eager. But I will take your advice, and trust implicitly to you.” ‘¢ Believe me, you may, for I seek only your happiness,’ said Jack. ‘“ Now, refuse not, from any false pride, this purse. It contains sufficient for your present necessities, and to secure the services of those who do the best offices for the dead.” The young man took the purse with a look full of sratitude. “Sir,” he said, in a choking tone, ‘‘T cannot find words to thank you.” ‘*T do not ask thanks. You will do as I sug- gest ; and in this room, at this hour to-morrow, meet me here.” “T will, sir,” “ Very good. And I shall then doubtless in- form you that the papers you have entrusted to me are in the hands of one who will be better able to judge of their merits than myself, and who, I am sure, for my sake, will do all he can to obtain for you your just inheritance.” ‘“* God bless you, sir! My heart is too full to say more.” “Tt is not often that blessings are asked on my head.” “People do not know you, sir,” said the young man, looking through the tear that elistened in his eye upon our hero’s face. . “Nor do you, my friend.” | “ I feel I do—yes, I feel I do,” said Richard, placing his hand on his heart. ‘“‘ This tells me that I do know you.” “Well, well,’ said Jack, “we will not con verse more now, for you have much to do, and need rest and refreshment. So I will take my leave of you, and return hither in the morn- ing, when I hope to see that form in its coffin.” He looked down at the bed, and then, taking the hand of Richard in his own, and holding it there for some moments, he said— ““ Tt is always the darkest the hour before day —the sun breaks through the darkest cloud. If I may judge from your words and appearance, yours has been a hard strugele of late. But I sincerely hope brighter days are dawning.” ‘““ God knows it has! ” ‘* Hope, then, that your sorrows are over, Hope for the best.” edo ‘ Farewell, then, till to-morrow.” “God bless you, sir!” They shook hands, and Jack turned with a sort of melancholy pleasure from-the room of death, and slowly took his way down the narrow SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROR OF LONDON. staircase out of the house into the fresh morning air. As the door of the room closed behind him, Richard sank down upon his knees beside the wretched bed, and, @overing his face with his hands, wept aloud. ) Now that he was alone he felt he could weep —that he could relieve the heart so bowed down with suffering and want, For some time his sobs echoed throuch that chamber of death, and when relieved and com- forted, he rose to his feet. The sunbeam had crept up the wall, and marked that the hour of eleven had arrived. ‘“ Not my mother!” he said ; mother! But I loved her as if she were, and will respect her memory as deeply as though she - And she © had died with that secret unrevealed. called on me to curse her with her last breath! She asked me to curse her. Me! me! Qh, God! would she had lived but another moment that she might have heard my blessings on her head! But they shali rise to heaven after her soul, and, mingling with her prayers at His foot- | stool, ask His mercy and forgiveness for her one sreat sin,” Then seizing his hat again, which he had re- moved from his head, he went out to find an un- dertaker, and commission him to provide a coffin for the woman’s remains, and, in a few minutes, had discovered the object of his search. Arrangements were soon made. A deposit paid to ensure the coffin being supplied imme- diately, and leaving the whole arrangement of the funeral in the man’s hands, he retired and looked about for a place where he could obtain a bed, and seek strength, rest, and refreshment. Of course, he need not look far for what he desired, and entering a quiet-looking public- house made his wants known ; and ere twelve o'clock had struck, he had partaken of a hearty meal—a luxury he had not known for some days —and retired to a neat and clean little chamber which had been provided for him while enjoying his repast. | He laid his head upon the pillow, and sleep, the soft healer of all human ills, stole over him ; and for a time he forgot, in sweet, refreshing slumber, the joys he fondly hoped were in store for him, and the anxieties and miseries he had so lately passed through. 3 CHAPTER XC. THE WIFE AND WIFE-BEATER—GRASPER PLANS AGAIN, BILL JACKSON no sooner saw Grasper and the neighbours whom he had aroused in full pur- suit of Jack than that worthy turned back, and reached the door with the greasy cord in the centre. On the threshold he encountered his trembling wife, who was inwardly muttering a prayer that Ellen and her preserver might escape. ‘Nammus, Poll,” said the burly ruffian, giving her a push, which drove her back into the pas- sage, and against the wall, with sueh force as to bring down several pieces of the broken mortar. Let me get in.” ‘comicbhoo “not my ll wi =