The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 324: what you’re looking at

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

Ci THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. 303 © Those words sounded to him like his death waltTant, > He knew well that it was at this point that he bad told the soldiers to await the coming of the fugitives, But they took no heed of him. They attributed all his wrigglings and contor- tions and writhings to his eagerness to escape, and only made his bonds tighter, in spite of the gurgling attempts he made at articulation. In a very short time the three friends had taken leave of the old mountebank and his little daughter, and were speeding away along the high road, little dreaming of the danger that awaited them—the count bearing before him the helpless form of the Italian. “ For England and safety,’ was the thought of Count Beauville. * For England and Ettie,”’ was the thought of both the Young Apprentice and the armourer. The horses which the Italian had procured for them were really good, powerful steeds, and they dashed away at a rattling pace along the dark road. For three miles they rushed away through the night, until, arriving at the part where they could see the lighte in the old Chateau de Beauville, the count suddenly stopped. “My friends,” he said, “we are betrayed. We'll silence this wretch’s tongne, and if we find that he has betrayed us we will kill him.” He loosened the man’s gag, still keeping a firm hold upon his throat. “Now,” he said, placing the sharp oold point of his knife to his neck, “now tell me what men are those whose glittering armour we can see yonder !” ‘The King's guards.” “ And what do they there ?” ‘They are waiting for you.” “ And how knew they we were coming P” ‘‘T told them,” The count waited for no more, In an instant the knife was preased into the throat of the traitor, the hundred gold pieces were taken from his purse, and the dead body was flung into the road. “The treacherous wretch is dead,” said the count quietly, ‘‘ let us fly this way. Follow me.” At the instant they started, the King’s guard followed in pursuit with fresh horses, and with a full knowledge of the road, which neither the Young Apprentice nor the armourer “That accursed dog has placed us now in peril than ever,” said the count; “if they catch us it will be instant death." & Ee CHAPTER XVIII. THE BOATMAN AND THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER—THE TEMPLE GARDENS—THE WATCHER—~THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW— THE BRIDAL NIGHT—THE YOUNG WIFE AND THE OLD HUSBAND—THE JEALOUS SENTINEL=THE ATTACK—THE COMBAT— THE DEFIANCE—THE REVIVAL—THE WED- DING CHAMBER—THE ABDUOCTION—THE DISAPPOINTED BRIDEGROOM, “SHALL we have a moon to-night, Darvil ?”’ ‘¢ No, sir, there’s no ehance of it. The moon is young yet, and yonder bank of clouds creep- ing over the old Temple will not disperse till they feel sunshine battling against them. Shall I give way, sir?” “ Do so.” The wherry in which the two persons were, who had exchanged this brief conversation to- gether, shot through the dark water of the Thames and reached the esplanade on the river front of the Temple Garden, close by White- friars. The man who was rowing was rather a sinister- looking individual, with a slouched hat drawn very far down upon his brows. The person, or gentleman, as we may call him, for his dress and general appointments bespoke him to be sucb, who gat in the stern of the wherry, was enveloped in a cloth cloak of a fine silken texture. A oouple of rich bullion tagsels strayed from the collar of it, and the fawn-coloured felt hat that he wore was graced by an ostrich feather that daoced in the night breeze which played upon the water. As this gentleman moved now and then, his sword clanked ‘against the seat of the boat; and once as his cloak blew aside from the effect of a gust of wind that came suddenly and un- expectedly, sweeping across the water, a very rich costume was partially exhibited beneath it. ‘‘ Sir,” said the boatman, “ jo have not yet condescended to asy where I am to have the honour of taking you.” “ Good.” “But sir, ero we were on the river, you had the goodness to ssy when I talked of the bad state of Blackfriars, and of the pirates that plied about Whitefrinrs, that we should not have to go so far, and that, therefore, we need not fear them,” ‘Did I say so, Darvil ?” “You did, sir, in truth.” “Well, then, my good fellow, pall in to the emple,”’ T “ The Temple stairs, sir?” “No, the garden; it is just about high water, is it not?” UW Vory nocd, then it ‘will be t feat to “ Very , then no ea step from the boat to the garden. Bo, give way and be sharp about it.” “ Your worship shall be obeyed.” “Ah! what is that?” “Old St, Danstan’s striking twelve, noble sir.” ae Hush ! I hear something else! be still.’ The sound of gay voices came floating over the tree tops in the Temple Gardens, and min- gling with the monotonous chime of the clock of St. Dunstan's and the surging sound made by the night air on the surface of the Thames. . ‘ Quick,” cried the cavalier, suddenly, “we shall be late.” “We, indeed !” muttered the boatman, as he pulled towards the low stone parapet of the Temple Garden, against which tide almost washed, ‘we, indeed! Yes, I suppose you are, for I am in no sort of hurry, I can tell you.” There is 4 ay class of le who must bare their grumble, although, as they care have it all to themselves, one would hardly think it could be very gratifying, GOVE OO © Ir