There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. Then you have altered not only that, but your manner of dressing it. “I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. "That's it!" cried Wild when Trenchard concluded. Wood, popping her head through the window.
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