‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. “For my part I can see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with their demure manner and atrocious songs. In some instances she tantalizes the victim for years and mocks him in the end. But here,—even here, the demon was suffered to intrude, and Jack's thoughts were distracted by Jonathan Wild, who stood at a little distance from him, and kept his bloodthirsty eyes fixed on him during the whole of the service. Ah!" she screamed, with a sudden change of manner; and pointing to the window, which Jack had left open, and at which a dark figure was standing, "there is Jonathan Wild!" "Betrayed!" exclaimed Jack, glancing in the same direction. His blood would be sweet with it. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air.
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