"I should be sorry to proceed to extremities," continued Sheppard, again raising the pistol. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. "So much the worse," replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain what to do. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. "Come up by the packet?" "No; came up with The Tigress.
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