Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. ‘So I shall do so. ” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness.
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