58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. ” To her relief, Trodger sent one of his men posthaste to London with this missive, while the other went to fetch the horse, having been given precise directions on how to negotiate the passage so that he might find it at the other end. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. "He has heard of your wonderful escapes, and wishes to see what you're like. Had to. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever.
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