"I will die first," replied Mrs. Sheppard.
"You may die _afterwards_ as soon as you please," retorted Jonathan; "but live till then you _shall_. I"ve sent for the priest."
"Mercy!" cried Mrs. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compa.s.sion in the thief-taker"s inexorable countenance,--"Mercy! mercy!"
"Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. "You should be glad to be made an honest woman."
"Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. "I have not many days,--perhaps, not many hours to live. But kill me rather than commit this outrage."
"That wouldn"t answer my purpose," replied Jonathan, savagely. "I didn"t carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you."
"What motive can you have for so vile a deed?" asked Mrs. Sheppard.
"You know my motive well enough," answered Jonathan. "However, I"ll refresh your memory. I once might have married you for your beauty,--now I marry you for your wealth."
"My wealth," replied Mrs. Sheppard. "I have nothing."
"You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire."
"Not while Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland live."
"Sir Rowland is dead," replied Jonathan, gloomily. "Thames Darrell only waits my mandate to follow him. Before our marriage there will be no life between you and the estates."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Sheppard.
"Look here," cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried.
Here your nephew will speedily be thrown."
"Horrible!" cried Mrs. Sheppard, shuddering violently. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head. Heaven will not permit the continuance of such wickedness as you practise."
"I"ll take my chance," replied Jonathan, with a sinister smile. "My schemes have succeeded tolerably well hitherto."
"A day of retribution will a.s.suredly arrive," rejoined Mrs. Sheppard.
"Till then, I shall remain content," returned Wild. "And now, Mrs.
Sheppard, attend to what I"m about to say to you. Years ago, when you were a girl and in the bloom of your beauty, I loved you."
"Loved me! _You_!"
"I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard.
This discovery made, I hastened back to London to offer you my hand, but found you had married in the mean time a smock-faced, smooth-tongued carpenter named Sheppard. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,--would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,--and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father."
"And terribly you have kept your vow," replied Mrs. Sheppard.
"I have," replied Jonathan. "But I am now coming to the point which most concerns you. Consent to become my wife, and do not compel me to have recourse to violence to effect my purpose, and I will spare your son."
Mrs. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul.
"Swear that you will do this," she cried.
"I swear it," rejoined Jonathan, readily.
"But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. "You will not hesitate to break it, if it suits your purpose. I have suffered too much from your treachery. I will not trust you."
"As you please," replied Jonathan, sternly. "Recollect you are in my power. Jack"s life hangs on your determination."
"What shall I do?" cried Mrs. Sheppard, in a voice of agony.
"Save him," replied Jonathan. "You _can_ do so."
"Bring him here,--let me see him--let me embrace him--let me be a.s.sured that he is safe, and I am yours. I swear it."
"Hum!" exclaimed Jonathan.
"You hesitate--you are deceiving me."
"By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. "You shall see him to-morrow."
"Delay the marriage till then. I will never consent till I see him."
"Yon ask impossibilities," replied Jonathan, sullenly. "All is prepared.
The marriage cannot--shall not be delayed. Yon must be mine to-night."
"Force shall not make me yours till Jack is free," replied the widow, resolutely.
"An hour hence, I shall return with the priest," replied Jonathan, striding towards the door.
And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door.
"An hour hence, I shall be beyond your malice," said Mrs. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother.
After escaping from the turner"s house, Jack Sheppard skirted St.
Sepulchre"s church, and hurrying down Snow Hill, darted into the first turning on the left. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,--celebrated as one of Goldsmith"s retreats,--he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan"s habitation.
A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild"s dwelling into this yard. Before he forced an entrance, Jack tried it, and, to his great surprise and delight, found it unfastened. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow pa.s.sage leading to the back stairs. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew. Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps.
Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary"s carelessness.
This done, he followed the course which Jack had just taken. As he crossed the cellar, he pa.s.sed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. It was Jack"s intention to have knocked him down with the iron bar; but he was so struck with the janizary"s looks, that he determined to spare him till he had ascertained his purpose. With this view, he suffered him to pa.s.s on.
Quilt"s manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. He halted,--looked fearfully around,--stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don"t like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. Wild will hang me." With this, he appeared to pluck up his courage, and stepped forward more boldly.