Awed by Jonathan's manner, Mrs. Sheppard repressed the scream that
rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at
the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight,
seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to
block up the window. In addition to his customary arms, Jonathan
carried a bludgeon with a large heavy knob, suspended from his wrist
by a loop; a favourite weapon, which he always took with him on
dangerous expeditions, and which, if any information had been
requisite, would have told Sheppard that the present was one of them.
“Well, Jack,” he said, after a pause, “are you disposed to go back
quietly with me?”
“You'll ascertain that when you attempt to touch me,” rejoined
Sheppard, resolutely.
“My janizaries are within call,” returned Wild. “I'm armed; you are
not.”
“It matters not. You shall not take me alive.”
“Spare him! spare him!” cried Mrs. Sheppard, falling on her knees.
“Get up, mother,” cried Jack; “do not kneel to him. I wouldn't accept
my life from him. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet.
And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging
me.”
Jonathan raised his bludgeon, but controlled himself by a powerful
effort.
“Fool!” he cried, “do you think I wouldn't have secured you before
this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?”
“And that motive is fear,” replied Jack contemptuously.
“Fear!” echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,--“fear! Repeat that word
again, and nothing shall save you.”
“Don't anger him, my dear son,” implored the poor widow, with a look
of anguish at Jack. “Perhaps he means well.”
“Mad as you are, you're the more sensible of the two, I must say,”
rejoined Jonathan.
“Spare him!” cried Mrs. Sheppard, who fancied she had made some
impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,--“spare him!
and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. Spare him! spare
him!”
“On one condition I _will_ spare him,” returned Wild; “on one
condition only.”
“What is it?” asked the poor woman.
“Either he or you must return with me,” answered Jonathan.
“Take _me_, then,” replied the widow. And she would have rushed to
him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son.
“Do not go near him, mother,” cried Jack; “do not believe him. There
is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words.”
“I _will_ go,” said Mrs. Sheppard, struggling to get free.
“Attend to me, Mrs. Sheppard,” said Jonathan, looking calmly on at
this distressing scene, “Attend to me, and do not heed him. I swear
to you, solemnly swear to you, I will save your son's life, nay more,
will befriend him, will place him out of the reach of his enemies, if
you consent to become my wife.”
“Execrable villain!” exclaimed Jack.
“You hear that,” cried Mrs. Sheppard; “he swears to save you.”
“Well,” replied her son; “and you spurn the proposal.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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