The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 223: what you’re looking at

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

216 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. - “Stay?” repeated the man, with a shudder—“ not for the world! I must go with you—you know that: you have left me no other resource.” Before the clock struck twelve, Flin and the speaker were seated in the third-class train for Liverpool: the signal was given, and the hissing engine rolled on with its comet-like train. This time the avenger was with them, not behind them. The morning after their arrival the vessel sailed. Great was the astonishment of his numerous cus- tomers, the next day, on finding Flin’s place closed, and many were the speculations of the neighbours. Still, as he had been known to absent himself during the day several times, no great suspicion was excited. Poor Meg remained inconsolable for the absence of her husband; a hundred times would she start from her seat, fancying that she heard his footsteps up the yard: but it invariably proved to be some neighbour dropping in to console her, or a workman remne to his meals at evening or mid-day. ‘‘T shall never see him again,” she sobbed, “ never— never—he must be dead ! nothing but death could keep him from his children, however angry he might be with me—he has too kind a heart, and loves the poor things too well for that !” At such times, Pepper would look up wistfully into her face, and howlin sympathy. Nothing could exceed the restlessness and uneasiness of the dog: he left the house, and returned every quarter of an hour—refused COniiclooecl SS (SO