The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

ever—feel nothing but the palpable darkness round him. His were no pleasant thoughts. In this same house he had suffered torments of both mind and body. In this house he had seen the tender flesh of Ettie Leslie about to be torn by the executioner's iron. In this house, however, he had fought and bled for Ettie, and had saved her from her enemies. “TY will not despair, then,’’ he said, as he turned on his side tosleep. “I will trust in Providence, refresh myself with sleep, and atdawn be ready or all.” He did not, however, sleep till dawn. Ere the twilight came he was awakened by a shower of pebbles, He sprang up. bove him was a faint streak of light. “Ah!” he cried; “there is, then, a window above me. What means this signal? Its very gecresy betokens friendship.” As he was thinking, a second shower of tiny stones entered through the bara, ‘‘This will make my bed very pleasant to- night,” he thought. “If any one fancies this to be an expression of friendship, I beg to differ.” He had not long te wait, however, for another manifestation. This time, however, it did not show itself in the form of a shower of stones. It wasa letter attached to a stone. Eagerly Harold seized it. In the dim light it was at first almost im- possible to read it ; but at length he made it out as follows :— “My DEAR HAROLD,—The exigencies of existence compelled me to join a certain misshapen imp named Quelf in the attempt to seize upon your person. (aa you witnessed the ) that I carried you down to the river and placed you bound in the boat. ButI should never have left you in eo perilous a position had it not been that I was compelled to rush to the assistance of my friend Peter Quelf who was in mortal danger. When I fonnd that you had floated away, my sorrow, imegine my alarm. What could I do? Quelf was I was only mises able and heartbroken, for when [| remembered your brav I felt remorse at having sesisted Quelfin his vagabond- = Bon eonaw I experience lively feeling of “ Now, er, @ more ) than ever. I have discovered this very night that you are the of one, who, in old times, protecied me and behaved to me with kindness, The name I know not; it is the Man Without a Name. lf you are bold and true I will eave you ere night. Fear nothing then, but rely on Lackland and Armida. Ere night fails your bars will be tern away and you will be free. Fear nothing. Raymond has been suddenly summoned away, and from him need apprehend no danger. _ ” mae Your faithfal friend, “LACKLAND.” “Villain !" muttered Harold. ‘“ Suppose I must make use of him. Yet how am I to know that he is not betraying me even now?" He thought a moment. ‘What shall I do? Shall I trust him ; or shall I demand of him some watchward? That of our cause is now— ‘England and Justice.’ Yet how to demand it? Ihave no pen or ink—no paper. e hesitated but a few moments. The battle-fleld had accustomed him to the aight of blood. Undoing his sleeve, therefore, he scratched with his diamond cross a wound in his arm, and then, tearing off a piece of his linen shirt, THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, he wrote, “ Before I believe, what is the watch- word ?° This he attached to the stone which the Alaatian captain had flung in, and, as well as he geuld, threw it through the bars. It was not long before he received in these words— ‘**England and Justice.’ You are prudent, my young friend; but, do not waste precious blood which may be required for better things, Expect us early.” . Three hours after this a young girl entered. She was very pretty, wearing the costume of the period, with her neck and bosom bare, and fancy lace work decking the edges of the stomacher, Her fair hair and blue eyes betokened a mild disposition. Harold found it otherwise. “Is Lord Raymond from home, mistress?” he asked, as the, girl laid down his coarse break- a response - fast. ‘“< He is,” returned the gr, abruptly. Harold seized her hand. “Oh 1’ he said, ‘“‘ perhaps you have one who loves you—whom you love, Save me from this place for his sake.” “There, that'll do,” cried the girl, shaking him off ; “ my father’s the one you must speak to. I suppose you’ve been doing wrong or you wouldn’t be here.” “One moment,” said Harold, detaining her. * Hands off !” she cried, “or I'll cry out, and you'll be shot down.” “See here,” exclaimed Harold, showing her the diamond brooch givea him by Lady Blanche. ig not this beautiful f” The girl released his arm, which she had selzed, and, seising the trinket, gazed at it eagerly, i ROE, it is beautiful!” shed cried, in a tone softened by avarice, “ Will you give me this?” “ Yes, if you will set me free.” She glanced at him from head to foot. “And this, too,” she said, pointing to the brooch given to him by Ettie. “T cannot,” “T must have both. Give it me?” “No,” said Harold, resolutely ; “not for the orrThen Till do 1 “ Then do n ” said the girl, as determinedly as he, “nine a He sat down on his straw, She slowly — regretting the cross — made towards the door. “Stay,” cried Harold; “I will give you the cross, and an order upon Frank Leslie the armourer in the Strand for ten golden guineas.” ‘And that is worth twenty. It is what I have long wished for. No; give it to me and I will come 60 you in the middle of the night, and set you free. Refuse it to me, and you remain here and die,” The hideous avarice of the girl irritated Harold. “ I will remain and die, then,” he said ; “ you will lose the cross, and J shall at least have the pleasure of having this last relic of one I love pressed to my heart when I die,” She looked at him angrily, and quitted the Her flushed cheeks—her heaving bosom—her rg EDOO <S) CO = =») lin