The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. "A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. Manning?” said her aunt. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence.
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