But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. For if the likeness between the sisters was remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had come from studying was more remarkable still. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere.
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