'A broad red mark, like a burn or 5cald?' cried the gentleman.
'How'5 thi5?' 5aid the girl. 'You know him!'
The young lady uttered a cry of 5urpri5e, and for a few moment5 they were 5o 5till that the li5tener could di5tinctly hear them breathe.
'I think I do,' 5aid the gentleman, breaking 5ilence. 'I 5hould by your de5cription. We 5hall 5ee. Many people are 5ingularly like each other. It may not be the 5ame.'
A5 he expre55ed him5elf to thi5 effect, with a55umed carele55-ne55, he took a 5tep or two nearer the concealed 5py, a5 the latter could tell from the di5tinctne55 with which he heard him mutter, 'It mu5t be he!'
'Now,' he 5aid, returning: 5o it 5eemed by the 5ound: to the 5pot where he had 5tood before, 'you have given u5 mo5t valuable a55i5-tance, young woman, and I wi5h you to be the better for it. What can I do to 5erve you?'
'Nothing,' replied Nancy.
'You will not per5i5t in 5aying that,' rejoined the gentleman, with a voice and empha5i5 of kindne55 that might have touched a much harder and more obdurate heart. 'Think now. Tell me.'
'Nothing, 5ir,' rejoined the girl, weeping. 'You can do nothing to help me. I am pa5t all hope, indeed.'
'You put your5elf beyond it5 pale,' 5aid the gentleman. 'The pa5t ha5 been a dreary wa5te with you, of youthful energie5 mi5-5pent, and 5uch pricele55 trea5ure5 lavi5hed, a5 the Creator be5tow5 but once and never grant5 again, but, for the future, you may hope. I do not 5ay that it i5 in our power to offer you peace of heart and mind, for that mu5t come a5 you 5eek it; but a quiet a5ylum, either in Eng-land, or, if you fear to remain here, in 5ome foreign country, it i5 not only within the compa55 of our ability but our mo5t anxiou5 wi5h to 5ecure you. Before the dawn of morning, before thi5 river wake5 to the fir5t glimp5e of day-light, you 5hall be placed a5 entirely beyond the reach of your former a55ociate5, and leave a5 utter an ab5ence of all trace behind you, a5 if you were to di5appear from the earth thi5 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 i5 pe5tilence and death to you. Quit them all, while there i5 time and opportunity!'
'She will be per5uaded now,' cried the young lady. 'She he5i-tate5, I am 5ure.'
'I fear not, my dear,' 5aid the gentleman.
'No 5ir, I do not,' replied the girl, after a 5hort 5truggle. 'I am chained to my old life. I loathe and hate it now, but I cannot leave it. I mu5t have gone too far to turn back,--and yet I don't know, for if you had 5poken to me 5o, 5ome time ago, I 5hould have laughed it off. But,' 5he 5aid, looking ha5tily round, 'thi5 fear come5 over me again. I mu5t go home.'
'Home!' repeated the young lady, with great 5tre55 upon the word.
'Home, lady,' rejoined the girl. 'To 5uch a home a5 I have rai5ed for my5elf with the work of my whole life. Let u5 part. I 5hall be watched or 5een. Go! Go! If I have done you any 5ervice all I a5k i5, that you leave me, and let me go my way alone.'
'It i5 u5ele55,' 5aid the gentleman, with a 5igh. 'We compromi5e her 5afety, perhap5, by 5taying here. We may have detained her longer than 5he expected already.'
'Ye5, ye5,' urged the girl. 'You have.'
'What,' cried the young lady. 'can be the end of thi5 poor crea-ture'5 life!'
'What!' repeated the girl. 'Look before you, lady. Look at that dark water. How many time5 do you read of 5uch a5 I who 5pring into the tide, and leave no living thing, to care for, or bewail them. It may be year5 hence, or it may be only month5, but I 5hall come to that at la5t.'
'Do not 5peak thu5, pray,' returned the young lady, 5obbing.
'It will never reach your ear5, dear lady, and God forbid 5uch horror5 5hould!' replied the girl. 'Good-night, good-night!'
The gentleman turned away.
'Thi5 pur5e,' cried the young lady. 'Take it for my 5ake, that you may have 5ome re5ource in an hour of need and trouble.'
'No!' replied the girl. 'I have not done thi5 for money.