Black Bess; or, the Knight of the Road — page 383: what you’re looking at

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

= ; * ae. oe / a ee), Oe an al , + | ws a al e: - oy J nd. - vind af r N * 2 O- yAaEPS AL _ i. “a hs i, - : * 3 ~* 4 ta ash oe ay | d . * = a -~ "This was a mosi agreeable disvuvery to make, and Tom heartily cengratulated himself upon his good for- tune. ea Still, the narrow escape he had had from death did not fail to make him feol decidedly uncomfortable. He was therefore very wise to make the resolution of bauishing the thought altogether. : Under such exciting circumstances as the present. ¢t was likely enough that he would succeed. Glancing back, he saw that the police officers had ¢eom- menced a pursuit, and if the manner in which they _- whipped and spurred their horses could be taken as an indication of their intentions, then most assuredly did they intend to strain every nerve to attempt the accom- plishment of their purpose. But Tom only smiled while he observed their efforts. He had got an excellent start already, and was well aware how important a thing that was in a race. | Then, his horse he felt certain could go at a speed which would utterly preclude all hope of any of the officers overtaking him, unless he should be so unfortu- nate as to meef with some accident. Tom King accordingiy took off his hat and made a very low bow with it, just as he would have done had - he been wishing some one good night with an extra amount of politeness, This act was thoroughly well understood by the officers, and the reader will not need to be told that it would have a most galling effect upon them. It was well calculated to work up their aggravation to the highest pitch. Tom King now turned his attention in good earnest to getting away. Already the night was closing in, and although it wanted several hours of the time when he had appointed to meet his companions, yet he wished to have his actions unfettered without delay, in order that he might make one more attempt to discover the whereabouts of Maud. Tom's horse galloped on in gallant style. Indeed, it is no exaggeration whatever to say that for every three yards which the officers’ horses made he went six. : Such being the case, it follows as a matter of course that they were ere leng left quite behind. When completely out of sight and hearing, Tom abruptly changed his course, for all this time he had been going in a direction almest opposite to that which he had made up his mind to take. He did not very greatly relax his speed until he found himself once more in the vicinity of the Jolly Tar Inn. But he was not so temerarious as to venture too near to it this time. | Working round this building {fn @ circle, Tom sought everywhere for some trace uf Mend. But quite in vain. | . cthing at al) >... pe seen of her. Yet, despite his non-success, he continued his search perseveringly. At lemgth the hour of midnight drew near. “TI must give up,” he said, “and yet it vexes me ex- tremely to have todo so. I made sure that I was on the right track. I ought to have discovered her—I feel that I ought, and I shall ever blame myself for not having done so. My only hope is that some of my comrades may have been more fortunate than myself, but that, I Seel, is a frail, frail hope indeed.” It was therefore in great depression of spirits that Tom slowly made his way to the place of rendezvous. | He reached the blasted tree somewhere about the ap- pointed time. | On his arrival he found all dark and dreary. He had arrived first. The wind howled with a dismal sound among the oranches of the trees around, and sounded in Tom’s earg like a prognostication of coming evil. Time passed. Still save and except for the melancholy wailing of the wind, the silence remained unbroken. 4ll the while Tom kept his sense of hearing on full stretch. At last he was rewarded by hearing a welcome sound. It was the clatter of horses’ foet. ‘Shearer and clearer and more unmistakable became the THER KNIGHT OF THE ROAD. -? ent oe a * ws : % 4 s ~ 2% se *Wiu oy yer, Oe hs eho? ia ; 175% sound, and he leaned forward eagerly in ¢he saddle, tn the hope of being able to see who it was approaching. “Three riders,” he muttered, as he detected the foot- falls of three horses—“ three riders. Who can they be? Am I doomed to a disappointment after all ?” As he asked himself the question, he shrank back as far as he was able into the concealing shadow cast by the gloomy trees. Deh Od CHAPTER MXxXxV. RETURNS TO MAUD IN THE MILLER’S COTTAGE. It is necessary now that we should revert to the prow ceedings of Maud. We feai assured that the reader will willingly follow us in a reoital of her fortunes, especially as we have left her for so long a space. We go back, then, to that poverty-stricken cottage, or rather hut, that adjoined the water-mill. It will be remembered that when Maud learned from the lips of the miller’s wife that the time had passed when sk® ought to have conveyed the warning, she, with a despairing cry, had sprung up from the bed, intending to set out then. But she had miscalculated her strength, and at ence fell down in a swoon. When she recovered her consciousness, she found her- self again upon the bed, and the woman occupied in sprinkling water upon her. A copious flow of tears now eame to her relief. But sad indeed and full of anxiety was her heart, for she dreaded that Dick and his companions had pevished. Nothing else, save that utter bodily prostration to which she was a prey, could have kept her there in- active. Anything would have been preferable and better than lying there so helplessly. And yet after a time, when she grew calmer, she began to ask herself what she should do—where she should ga, supposing the use of her limbs had not been denied her ? But she asked these questions vainly. And so the weary, weary hours passed by. Her heart ached when the dim gray moonlight found its way into the room, for she was suffering from the worst of all agonies—suspense. During the day her strength partially returned to her, aud beyond doubt her recovery would have been more rapid had the requisite things been at hand; but in that lonesome hut scarcely the bare necessaries of life could be obtained. Still, when night ame she was better—so much se that she and reapparelled herself with but little assis’ Ce. At present she had said not a word to the woman re- specting the payment she intended to make for these services; but the truth was, Maud’s mind was by far too busily engaged in other matters to think of these, aud so the hints and remarks which the woman threw out were passed over unregarded. Neither did Maud observe on this night that the woman cast upon her threatening looks. and conversed in a low tone with her husband, who did nothing but crouch over the fire in an attitude of sullen indolence. “ John—John !” whispered the woman, for at least the twentieth time that evening. “ Well, well—what do you want?” “ You know what I want.” The man moved uneasily. “Have you made up your mind ?” contiaued his wife. * Silence—still !” “T tell you you are a fool und a coward, John Costard. So you have always been, and so you ever will be, I suppose.” ‘“‘ Hold your row |!” “T gha'n’t! Ishai) taik if I like! have you made up your mind ?” “‘ Hold your row, I say!” ‘ST sha’n’t! You have the chance now, but who knows how long you may have it? Perhaps not more than half an hour. Look !—she seeme half inclined to be cf now.” The man turned his bloodshot eyes towaraa Maus with a wolfish gaze I ask you again, (ECOA (C ‘S 0)(0\©) (E(@)