Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. ‘You are wise, Marthe. "It is an ordinary wedding," he added; "some shopkeeper's daughter. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood.
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