“I'll tell you,” answered Jonathan, sternly. “He thwarted my schemes twice. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,--Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,--he betrayed me. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good as my word.” “You were so,” replied Mrs Sheppard; “and for that wicked deed you will one day be brought to the gallows yourself.” “Not before I have conducted your child thither,” retorted Jonathan, with a withering look. “Ah!” ejaculated Mrs. Sheppard, paralysed by the threat. “If that sickly brat lives to be a man,” continued Jonathan, rising, “I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father.” “Pity!” shrieked the widow. “I'll be his evil genius!” vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. “Begone, wretch!” cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; “or I will drive you hence with my curses.” “Curse on, and welcome,” jeered Wild. Mrs. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. “A mother's prayers--a mother's blessings,” she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, “will avail against a fiend's malice.” “We shall see,” rejoined Jonathan, turning carelessly upon his heel. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. CHAPTER VI. THE STORM. As soon as he was liberated by his persecutors, Mr. Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him.