I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Wild is a great man," said the hangman, replenishing his pipe, "and we owe him much, and ought to support him. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. Hang the wench! Roding was right. I’ve had enough of it. " "Nay, if you're bent upon this folly," observed Wild, who appeared to have his own reasons for humouring the lad, "I shan't hinder you.
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