"By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface. “I don’t know, John, but I think there is something going on with Michelle. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong.
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