That Jennings vowed vengeance, and wreaked it afterwards too, on the youths that so had shown their love, was his solitary pleasure in the shower-bath.

But his critics were too numerous for him to punish all: they numbered every soul in the house, besides the summoned aiders--only excepting three: Sarah, who really had a head-ache, and made but little answers to the numerous glad envoys; Jonathan Floyd, whose charity did not altogether hate the man, and who really felt alarmed at his absence; and chiefest, Mrs.Quarles, who evinced more affection for her nephew than any thought him worthy of exciting--she wrung her hands, wept, offered rewards, bustled about every where, and kept calling blubberingly for "Simon--poor dear Simon." At length, that fearful hue and cry began to subside--the hubbub came to be quieter: neighbour-folks went home, and inmates went to bed.

Sarah Stack put aside her work, and left the room.
What a relief to that hidden caitiff! his feet, standing on the cold, damp iron so many hours, bare of brogues, were mere ice--only that they ached intolerably: he had not dared to move, to breathe, and was all over in one cramp: he did not bring the brandy-bottle with him, as he once had planned; for calculation whispered--"Don't, your head will be the clearer; you must not muddle your brains;" and so his caution over-reached itself, as usual; his head was in a fog, and his brains in a whirlwind, for lack of other stimulants than fear and pain.
O Simon, how your prudence cheats you! five mortal hours of anguish and anxiety in one unalterable posture, without a single drop of creature-comfort; and all this preconcerted too!.