At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. If you hang Jack Sheppard, you'll cut off the flower o' the purfession. To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not.
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