The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 199: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXXIIL THE DUNGEON—THE RBAY OF LIGHT—THE DAWN OF HOPE—THE MASKED LADY—THE OFFER—THE REFUSAL—THE BROKEN WALL —THE YOUNG GIRL’S COURAGE—OK, ON FOR FREEDOM ! As I have said, the cell into whieh the Yeung Apprentice was thrust was dark and cold, The air was like that of a charnel-house, Light there was none. A long time before, when he had been seized upon by his enemies, and conveyed to the house on London Bridge, he had been placed in a similar place. Bat there there was light. There was a window through which the bright light of day streamed in upon his straw bed. ere all was blackness. h 6 walis were black, the floor was black, the ceiling was black. So, indeed, it seemed to him, for the darkness concentrated itself as it were around him, and he could see nothing that was not black. He remained in this place some hours ere he thought of traversing it to see of what nature it Waa, Lot Crouching down upon a heap of straw, where he ath b en, he endeavoured to recruit his stren y sleep. It was in vain. Insensibility would not come to him. Try as he would, he could only produce an over- whelming inclination to slumber, without the vat ngthe ried by there effort, h At length, wea y these rts, he spran u}:, and determined to ascertain in what kind of place he was immured. Advancing slowly, in order to avoid the risk of dashing his against some unseen obsta- cle, he walked on and on in the darkness until he began to imagine that ho was imprisoned in some underground corridor. At length, however, he came to a full stop against a stone wall, Cold and clammy, and moss wn, it was as if the warmth of the sunlight never pene- trated into its dreary de Feeling along this he at length came to the corner, and from this point he began retrac- ing his steps, in order to ascertain the width of the place. On, on again he walked. For a long time without opposition. At length, however, he came to a full stop again, Tne place in which he was thus buried alive was an | quadrangle. Finding with some difficulty the spot where the straw was hea he now once more endea- voured to find a little reat. is time tired Nature yielded, and he into a deep sleep. — — Light he awoke, he was startled by a bright Against a pillar near him bung a little lam which shed a yellow brilliance ato the spot where he lay, Near his head was a pitcher of strong ale, and cheese bay bread, “« treat their prisoners here to better fare than is given them by Lord Raymond,” mur- THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, mured he, as he began eagerly to refresh him- “Ah! you think so,” said’a voice. Harold started. “ Who was it that spoke !” he cried. ‘‘T,” said the voice again, and at the same mo- ment a tall burly trooper advanced from behind the pillars. | He was a dark-faced, dark-haired, bushy- bearded man, but he had a somewhat good- natured face, and he sat down by the prisoner with the air of one whe had come to enjoy him- self, and make himself comfortable. “Well,” he added, as he sat down; “ well, and pray, my friend, what are you here for?” “JT don’t know.” : ‘You don't know ?” | oy ‘Not I, unless my alaying Captain Hamilton in fair fight is looked upon by Lady Grace Cowley as a murder, and she means to take my life for it.” | — The man drew in a long breath. : 6“ yon I’ he said. “T at's it, is it? Then ou'll fare hard, my young sir.” ne Have you heard the account of his death ?"’ * No—tell it me,” The soldier listened patiently to Harold's narrative. When he had finished, he clapped his thigh as if in approval, saying, “It was done well, and like a soldier. Who can blame you 7” “Lady Grace will blame me.” ‘Doubtless ; and punish you, too. Though, let me tell you one thing, Captain Hamilton was no lover of her's. He loved her truly ; but she only desired the marriage for the sake. of his ition. She admires a handsome fellow ; make ove to her yourself. You would stand no bad chance with her, I fancy.” Harold smiled. “You will find me here long enough,” he said, “if I have to owe my safety to such means as you pro I bave one elsewhere whom I love, and if I cannot have her, I will have none.” At this moment there was a knocking without, and in another instant the door was opened, and @ man’s voice said, “ Bertrand, you are wanted.” The trooper sprang to his feet, “Remember my warning,” he said; “make love to Lady Grace, and you will be a free man.” The door had scarcely clanged to before it once more opened. This time the visitor was of a far different character. It was a lady, masked and cloaked. She waved back the man who admitted her, and as soon as he had vanished she advanced towards Harold Fordyce. He knew her in spite of her disguise. She was Lady Grace Cowley. “Well, sir,” she said, standing before him defiantly, “how like you your new home?” ‘It is better than the one your men promised me.” “ What was that ?” 66 The ve.” The lady laughed. “They said that but to frighten yon,’ she =e GOVE OO OKS CO