. No, this was imbecile. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. “John, don’t!” she cried.
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