Page 242 [242]
OCR
182 “Have I the lady’s promise for that ?” asked the girl eagerly. 6 You have,” replied Rose, “my true and faithful pledge.” c Monks would never learn how you knew what you do?” said the girl, after a short pause. s Never,” replied the gentleman. “The intelligence should be so brought to bear upon him that he could never even guess.” “T have been a liar and among liars from a little child,” said the girl, after another interval of silence, “but I will take your words.” After receiving an assurance from both, that she might safely do so, she proceeded in a voice so low that it was often diffcult for the listener to discover even the purport of what she said, to describe by name and situation the public house whence she had been followed that night. From the manner in which she occasionally paused, it appeared as if the gentleman were making some hasty notes of the information she communicated. When she had thoroughly explained the localities of the place, the best position from which to watch it without exciting observation, and the night and hour on which Monks was most in the habit of frequenting it, she seemed to consider a few moments for the purpose of recalling his features and appearance more forcibly to her recollection. “He is tall,” said the girl, “and a stronoly made man, but not stout; he has a lurking walk, and, as he walks, constantly looks over his shoulder, first on one side and then on the other. Don’t forget that, for his eyes are sunk in his head so much deeper than any other man’s, that you might almost tell him by this alone. His face is dark like his hair and eyes; but, although he can’t be more than six or eight and twenty, withered and haggard. His lips are often discoloured and disfigured with the marks of times even bites his hands, and covers them with wounds—why did you start? said the girl, stopping suddenly. The gentleman replied in a hurried manner, that he was not conscious of having done so, and begged her to proceed. “ Part of this,” said the girl, “I’ve drawn out from other people at the house I tell you of, for I have only seen him twice, and both times he was covered up in a large cloak. I think that’s all IT can give yon to know him by. Stay though,” she added, * upon his throat, so high that you can see a part of it below his—— neckerchief when he turns his face, there is c A broad red mark, like a burn or scald,” cried the gentleman. “How’s this?’ said the girl; "you know him.”’ The young lady uttered a cry of extreme surprise, and for a few moments they were so stil] that the listener could distinctly hear them breathe. “T think I do,” said the gentleman, breaking silence. “I should, by your description; we shall see. Many people are singularly like each other though—it may not be the same.” As he expressed himself to this effect, with assumed carelessness, he took a step: or two nearer Noah, as he could tell from the distinctness with which he heard him “ Now,” he said, returning — so it seemed by the sound—to the spot where he had stood before, “ you have given us most valuable assistance, young woman, and I wish you to be the better for it. What can I do to serve you?” “ Nothing,” replied Nancy. c You will not persist in saying that,” rejoined the gentleman with a voice and emphasis of kindness that might have touched a much harder and more obdurate heart. Think now; tell me.” “‘ Nothing, sir,” rejoined the girl, weeping. “ You can do nothing to help me. I am past all hope, indeed.” “You put yourself beyond its pale,” said the gentleman; “the past has been a dreary waste with you of youthful energies misspent, and such priceless treasures lavished as the Creator bestows but once, and never grants again; but for the future you may hope. I do not say that it is in our power to offer you peace of heart and mind, for that must come as you seek it, but a quiet asylum either in England, or, if you fear to remain here, in some foreign country, it is not only within the compass of our ability, but our most anxious Wish to secure to you. Before the dawn of morning, before this river wakes to the fresh glimpse of daylight, you shall be placed as entirely beyond the reach of your former associates, and leave as utter an absence of all traces behind you, as if you were to disappear from the earth this moment. Come. I would not have you go back to exchange one word with any old companion, or take one look at any old haunt, or breathe the very air which is pestilence and death to you. Quit them all while there is time andopportunity.”
