CHAPTER XI. \" \"I'm sorry I didn't call. But there was no sign from her. " Roused by this reflection, filled with the deepest anxiety for his mother, and burning to be avenged upon Jonathan Wild, he grasped the iron bar, which, when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across the room. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age.
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