He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly. " "Indeed!" said Shotbolt. “They have no plans for us.
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