” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. "What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. ‘But a spy I am not. "He is respited?" "Alas! no," replied Thames, sadly. It's almost incredible. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. "The deuce he has! Why, it's only a few hours since I beheld him chained down with half a hundred weight of iron, in the strongest ward at Newgate. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn.
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