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I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. There is no future for me here. 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.
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