The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. moonlight, which fell upon the white, ghastly face of the victim, whose eyes were closed as in death. The murderer waited not to see who was the intruder, bat, rushing from the body of .the one whom he had sacrificed to his brutal pasion, he sprang out of another doorway, and dis- appeared, “ This isn’t pleasant,” said the boy, to him- self, in a wonderfally low and melodious voice— trembling and agitated now, be it s:id—but, drawiog from his pocket what seemed to be a aquare block of tin, he slid aside a little screen in it, and disclosed a tiny Jamp. With this he knelt down by the side of the ole man, and threw the faint gleam upon his ace. It was the face of a handsome man; white, ghastly ond still, but it was scarcely the face of a dead man. There wag a slight tinge of red in his lips, and a faint fluttering of the heart, too, proved that he still lived, Placing the lamp upon the floor, the boy ran hurriedly down the stairs, and making his exit by the same way as he had entered, ran down the river's brink, and fetched in a leathern bottle some water. With this he hurried back. The old man still lay on the floor, but there was a strange tint of red in his cheeks, and the blood scarcely flowed at all from the wound in his chest. His enemy had evidently missed his aim. Dashing some of the cold liquid in the old man's face, he soon had the satisfaction of per- ceiving him open his eyes. He stared wildly round, and as his glance fell on the face of the young Jad kneeling by hiw, he seemed overwhelmed with surprise, The youth’s face was a fair one to behold, although rags only covered his form, Light bair, in profuse curls, overhung his fore- head ; Jarge brown eyes flashed ont from an oval face ; while the straight nose, the rounded cheek, and the carved mouth, made up a pleasant and uncommon countenance. “ Who are you?” asked the old man; “and how came you here so opportunely ?” “Jam Harold, and 1 came through the first floor win''ow,” said the boy. “Harold, ch? Harold what?” “ Nothing else, sir. I know no other name,” “Strange,” muttered the other. “ Help me up, boy ; help me up, and let me sit in yonder cbair,” The boy, with much difficulty, did as he was bidden, He was a strong boy, of between fourteen and fifteen, but the man he was lifting, though long passed the middle age, was tall and stout. When be had sat down in the chair, he re- mained for some time in silence, bon he said, half to himself, and half to the y> | ‘So your name is Harold P” “ Yes, sir.” “Only Harold; you know no other ?” “They call me Harold, the River Boy; that's all I know.” ‘“Then you have friends ?” ‘’ Only some boys.” NEES AEE “Ah ! bad companions—bad companions, no doubt,” said the cavalier, for as such he was dreased, “ Would you like honest work ?” Tbe boy’s eyes glistened. “Ob, yes, sir,” he said; “I would do any- thing to earn honest money.” “Good. You have saved my life, and I will see that you are rewarded for it. Go to-morrow evening to Master Frank Leslie, the armourer of the Strand, and tell him your name, But, atay, you must have a name; let us think.” More than once his eyes flashed, and his lips moved as if he were about to speak, but it was some time before he really uttered a sound, At length he said— “ Harold Fordyce, that will do. Well, go to- morrow night to the armourer’s, and mention your name ; and, if you choose to become his apprentice, and learn a good trade, your papers will be ready to sign.” The boy’s eyes filled with tears of grati- tude, “Oh, thank you, sir. This has always been the dream of my life. I am most grateful, sir, and will go as soon as to-morrow evening comes, and try todo my duty. But I am afraid Mas- ter Lastic will scarcely look at me in these thes.” ‘*‘ He will have otbera ready for you, never fear,” said the old man; “ he will be instructed by me. Go fearlessly, and J will watch after ou,” The boy hesitated a moment. Evidently he wished to say something, but feared to do go, At last he burst out as if he were about to commit a crime. ‘Please, sir, may I know the name of my benefactor ?” The old man averted bis head. “T have no name,” he said, with much emo- tion. “Do not ask a question which it is im- possible for me to answer. I know you are grateful, that is sufficient, and as J am grateful too, you need never fear that I shall want re- minding. And, now, since I am very faint and weary from luss of blood, I will remain here and try to sleep. Sit you in that other chair, and sleep also.” Harold did as he was bidden, and, in spite of the peril of the assassin’s return, he had just dozed off, when his benefactor’s voice said— ‘“‘One word mure ere you sleep. Did ycu see the face of the man who attacked me /” “Yes, sir, plainly. A dark, scowling face, burnt by the sun. I can see it now.” “Then, if you meet him again, take no notice of him ; leave vengeance to me, for that hour when vengeance may be minc, without in- juring another, will be the happiest of my life,” Az he spoke, Harold, who was half asicep, fancied that his form hovered over him like a gigantic shadow and disappeared. Theu be fell asleep, and dreamed that he was the king’s armourer, and married a princess, and woke up to find the moruing’s sun hot and burning on his face. But this and the old room with its dark floor, stained with red patches and its ragged tapcs- tries, was all he saw, for the old cavalier was gone, ok COMBEING