The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

Jen¥ THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. young, but of the face he could catch no glim pee. ‘‘ Help the serving man in, and ronse up the postilion,” said Harold ; “ I'll this lady to the carriage, and then fetch water for her from yonder brook.”’ Lifting her slender and graceful form in his arms, he placed her in the interior of the carrisge, and then rushed away to a spot where he had seen the water purling and glittering in the moonlight, _ Filling hia hat with this he returned, and having poured some of the cold liquid into the little mouth, and bathed the burning brow of the lady, he had soon the satisfaction of seeing her consciousness returning. She gazed about her wildly as sbe awoke from her unconsciousness, “Do not leave me,” were her first words.° “No; we will ride along by the side of the carriage,” returned Harold, ‘' as soon as we have extricated it from the ditch.” “Qh, no, no! I cannot remain here alone. Sit here by my side. I live not many miles hence, and shall be ever grateful if you will but gi ve a your protection and companionship us 99 Certainly,” retarned Harold, “from such beautiful lips as youra words are commands, I will acquaint my friend with your wishes, aud I will then gladly accompany you,” Having told Leslie of the wish of the un- know fair one, Harold returned to the spot where the poatilion (still suffering from the effects of the violence he had received at the hands of the ruffians), was endeavouring to drag the horses from the ditoh. With the asaistanoe of Leslie and the Young Apprentice, the carriage was soon once more in the roadway, and Harold having taken his place by the side of the lady, they proceeded at a rapid pace towards Northampton. The lady preased closely up against our hero, as if to be sure he was there to protect her. “ Oh! how grateful I am to you,” she mur- mured, “for saving me from the violence of those raffians.” ‘We arrived most providentially indeed,” said~ Harold, feeling an ‘nstinetive sensation of discomfort and slarm, as the gleaming eyes of the unknown beauty were bent upon him. Yes, indeed,” she said ; “and as a proof of my gratitude, I must insist upon one thing.” “ What is that?” ; ‘ You are travellingstowards Northampton f"’ 6 6s. . ‘“‘ My home is close here, You mast, with your friend, honour us with your company this ht, We can accommodate you with beds.” ‘Really, I fear ——” began “ Nay, then,” said the lady, “I will have“no refusal. You must come.” Ie was in vain he pleaded that he must hasten. He knew well that they would be compelled to remain that night at some place before pro- ceeding to Holmby House, and, therefore, his atyle of refusal was but lnkewarm. So he was compelled as length to acquiesce. There was in the mind of Harold Fordyce, however, an unpleasant feeling—a presentiment of evil—as he entered the house into whioh the unknown fair one had led him. What this presentiment was he could not tell. It was simply to his mind an indistinct warn- ing of something wrong. ‘You look pale and disturbed,’ said the armourer, as they entered the large room iagto which the servant ushered them. “I feel disturbed—I feel a heavy weight pressing upon my brain,” ‘¢ And wherefore ?” “JT know not—except that there is some un- known evil threatening us,” The armourer laughed. ‘‘ Ah! well,” he said, as he threw himself into a seat by the great chimney corner ; “ah | well ; we have outlived a great deal of treachery. We must outlive this.” ‘‘We must, I su * gaid Harold; “ yet there are times when such boasts fall idly. There must be an end to good fortane.” “* Why so? Some are born to good luck, you must confess,” “Truly ; but DEATH ends even that.” The armourer clapped him on the shoulder. “Why, Harold,” he cried, “this will not do. You must not give way in this manner to low spirits. Remember,” he added, in a lower tone, ‘‘ remember there are those in London who are anxiously awaiting ‘our return. If we are in danger, we must battle against it—not give way to despair.” “Oh! I donot‘ ir,” said Harold; “far from it. I only think that in this house we shalt have to keep our wits about us, and “* And why this suspicion ’” “J scarcely know, “Then dismiss the idea from there can be no reason for fear.” “ Fear,” cried Harold ; “it is a word I do not understand. But hush; I hear some one ap- proaching.” In another moment the door opened, and a serving-man entered. “Gentlemen,” he said, “my mistress is sorely fatigued with her journey, and wishes you will excuse her till the morning. If you will partake ef refreshment, I will conduct you to your chambers,” your mind— “J shall be glad, indeed, of a little sleep,” said Harold ; “ an as for refreshment, I and my friend here do not need it,” “You speak for both readily,” oried the armourer, smiling. . “Yeu.” w Harold, “ because I wish to preserve the life of the father of the one I love,” “ I will leave myself in your hands, Harold,” aaid the armourer, Then he added aloud to the serving-man who had entered— " “ Your mistress is very good, but we will take no refreshment. Weare very fatigued, however, and will gladly see our beds,” “ This way, then, gentlemen,” said the man; “J will conduct you at once to your beds.” Following the lead of the man-servant, they accordingly mounted the staircase, and were ushered into a large chamber, where the light of the lamp showed them a large bedstead with CILNA) EDOOo CO