Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

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“He’s a spiteful, vindictive rascal,” said he; “there’s no doubt of that.”

“He be vicious, an’ I should say from the look on’un a bad lot,” observed the ploughman. “There aint much on ’im, but what there is is all fire and brimstone, an’ it dont take much to set it alight.”

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Humiliated and crestfallen, Peace returned to his old haunts at Sheffield. He solaced himself by writing a long and affectionate letter to Bessie Dalton, of whom he had taken but little notice for some time past; now he endeavoured to make amends for his neglect.

The excuses he made for this were, as a matter of course, mainly drawn from his own imagination, which, as far as false statements were concerned, was at all times fertile enough.

He mixed freely with his boon companions and played the violin nightly at one or more of the sing-songs held at the public-houses in the town. He had “the gift of the gab,” as it is termed, could converse glibely enough upon most topics, in addition to which he had quaint sayings and amusing ways, which went far towards ensuring him a cordial reception from the frequenters of the houses he chose to honour with a visit.