Black Bess; or, The Knight of the Road — A Tale of the Good Old Times — page 167: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TI tr lc Ee er BLUESKIN : ‘¢ What then ?”’ ‘¢T felt almost dying, when I heard a horse’s hoofs upon the road, and then some one dashed among my persecutors, lifted me on to his horse, aud then—then ’’—— ‘© What then?” ‘TY remember no more until I awoke, and found myself here. ® 4 Is. it possible you do not remember who resened ou? we I never saw him.” “ Never saw him?” ** No, a mist was before my eyes. who I have not the slightest idea.” “Tt is strange. Did you hear his voice ?”’ *‘Tdid not notice it. But why do you ask so many questions P””’ ‘Simply because ’-——— “What?” “Tt was myself.” To say that Edgworth Bess did not anticipate this avowal would not be true. She dreaded, yet hoped she should not hear it. In spite of her attempt to suppress it, a shudder of loathing passed over her. But it was so slight that the unknown did not notice 1t. “Tt was myself,’ he said. ‘‘ By chance I was riding down Fleet-street, when just as I passed under Temple- bar, I heard a succession of screams. My first impulse was to ride at full speed to see what was amiss. I saw you surrounded by a gang of ruffians. I dispersed them! Carried you off in safety! Found you bleeding and insensible! Had no idea where you lived, and brought you here!” All that be said was reasonable enough, but yet, for the life of her, Bess could not find words wherewith to thank him. And yet there was nothing in his conduct with which she could have fonnd fault. Under the circumstances, no one could have acted otherwise. But in the face of this there was the strong feeling of misliking which she had experienced when first her eyes had rested upon his countenance. This feeling she strove to combat. ‘You must forgive me,” she said, “ for not remembering you. It was ungrateful of me.” ‘Nay, nay. I can easily understand ’’—— * And if I do not express my thanks to you for the great service and kindness you have rendered me in the manner that I ought, it is because I am unwell.” ‘TY am sure you must be. Remain here, however, im peace until you feel yourself well enough to move. You must pardon my intrusion, but I[ fancied you still slept. I wished to assure myself that you were well, yet would not for the world have disturbed you.” ‘You did not disturb me,” replied Bess; ‘‘I was awake, and wondering how I came here. Now IJ am at rest.” ‘¢ Tt pleases me to hear you say as much, and now, be- fore I leave you, there is one qnestion I wish to ask of rou.” *¢ What is it, sir?” ‘TY cannot but think that there must be those who are in deep trouble respecting your disappearance. Where is your home ?”’ Bess burst into tears. The stranger looked vexed. ‘‘ What have J said to distress you?” he asked. ‘* T have no home!” No home?” *“No; but there is one who will be full of anxiety to know where Jam. His—his”’ “Where shail I find him ?” ** Will you assure him of my safety ?”’ ‘With your permission, yes.” “Thanks, sir! I shall never be able to repay you.” “Do not talk of that. Whoam I to tell that you are safe ?”’ *¢ Jack.” “© Jack what ?” *¢ Jack Sheppard !” “Jack Sheppard!” said the unknown, repeating the name several times, ‘‘ and where does he live ?”’ “You will find him at a public-house in Drury-lane, calied the ‘ Black Lion,’ and kept by a man named John- I saw some one, but A ROMANCE, 165 son. Ifhe—that is, Jack—is not there, leave word, and that will be enough.” * T will do it.” ‘Thanks! thanks!” ‘I will send a messenger there at onee. thing more? Do not be afraid to speak.”’ ** 'l‘here is nothing more.” a will go, then. Mrs. Lovat will attend to you. Goad night.’ ‘* Good night, sir,’ said Bess, “if night 1t is,” ** Yes, it is night.” ‘“* How long, then, have I slept ?”’ ‘* More than twelve hours.”’ ** More than twelve hours! Oh! sir, add still more to the obligation I am under to you by sending at once to Drury-lane.”’ *€T will, you may depend upon it.” The unknown then retired. A vague, uncertain dread of something wrong pressed upon Bess’s spirits. Yet every consideration was shown her. She had met with nothing but fairness and kindness. Over and over again did she reproach herself for having such feelings. But she could not master them. If for a time she succeeded in driving them back, they only returned directly afterwards with double force. It struck her as being rather strange that he had never asked her name, nor conmmunicated his own. That, however, might be only a natural omission. And so, without any new incident, the night wore away. It was not until the middle of the day following that her preserver entered. ‘Bess was wonderfully better; indeed, she felt well enough to rise and dress, but was dissuaded from doing so by Mrs. Lovat. There was no misunderstanding the eager imquining look which she gave the stranger as he entered. ** T have sent,’’ he said. ** Yes—yes!” ‘But the person you inquired for was not there.” ** But you left the message ?” ** My man did.” ** That is right, then.” ‘** And now,” said the stranger, “I hope vou will listen to me, and be not offended with what I say.” ** I could not be so ungrateful to you.” ‘* Make, then, this house your home until such time as you feel yourself sufficiently recovered to leave it. Do not hesitate, I beg. You will still receive the same treatment as you have done hitherto.” ‘* Accept my thanks, sir; but I think I shall be well enough to leave m the course of an hour or so. I should have risen this morning, only Mrs. Lovat expressly desired me not to do so.” ** And she is right. Do not think of moving yet. Is there anything more that I can do for you? I hope you will excuse me making the remark, but ever since I saw you I[ have felt the greatest possible interest in you. This house is mine. My name is Thorne. Generally known as Colonel Thorne, though I am not now in the service. I have no friends and relatives of my own, and that will explain in a great measure the interest I feel in you.” This speech was a kind enough one, and sounded fair enough, but yet Bess could not divest herself of the idea that there was something more than could be seen at a first glance in this fairness and kindness. . The speech, too, was one which having contained a con- fidence, ought to receive one in return, and so she said— ‘“T must again thank you, sir, for all that you have said and done. Tain a poor girl—an orphan—with but one friend in the world—the one to whom I sent a message. I have to work hard for a livelihood, and my occupation 1s th&t of a shroud-maker. Ts there any- CHAPTER CXIV. COLONEL THORNE BEGINS TO SHOW THE CLOVEN FOOT, AND EDGWORTIE BESS’S WORST SUSPICIONS ARE FULLY REALIZED. CotoneL THORNE will, for tho next few pages, play rather a prominent part in this narrutive, and so we wil devote a few lines to him especially. Firstly, then, as he had said, the palatial-looking resi- (SO) 5}