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. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined.
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