The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

THE WATCII\WORDS OF OLD LONDON. _ 37 For an instant the Young Apprentice was scared, and glanced at them as he would have done at some apparition from the dead. Closing his eyes a moment, he endeavoured in that way to satisfy himself as to whether or not he was ming, or at least giving way to an excited imagination, When he re-opened them there was but one armourer seated dejectedly on a wooden bench near the river side, lookin g into the water, and holding his long sword in his hand. He was leaning his back against a huge tree, whose branches swayed over the river, and in an instant an idea flashed acroes Harold’s mind. He would approach the assassin from behind, and endeavour to cut from his cloak a piece of cloth, in order to satisfy himself as to the identity of the murderer. Slowly, therefore, he approached the bench on which the man sat. The latter observed him not. He was far too deeply buried in his own thoughts. Harold, therefore, succeeded in making his way close up to the seat and cutting a piece of the cloak off, close to the bottom. Not a movement made the armourer. He was evidently a prey to profound emotion. His body was motionless, but his chest heaved, and every now and then he gave vent to a deep and bitter sigh. It was a strange and unaccountable thing. Why did this man, whom he had seen a moment before perpetrating an infamous and hideous murder, sit here ken-hearted and weary / Why these sighs and groans as of a despairing - spirit? He waited not to think more, however, for he had no desire to be discovered, and creeping away, therefore, as quietly as ho had come, he maie his way towards the back of the armourer’s premises, and let himself into the workshop. He had not long entered it, when he heard a heavy tread along the stones of the yard, and saw the giant armourer’s form approaching from the river's side. Instead of going into the house as Harold had expected, Frank Leslie made his way into the shop, and there struck a light, As he did so, he caught sight of the Young Apprentice lying upon the work-bench. “Pray, what do you do here, lad?” cried he ; “what do you here? Have you not finished work yet ?” It was on the tip of Harold’s tongue to tell the entire events of the evening—the return of Quelf—the secret shaft—the subterranean vault, and his strange escape from the conspirators. But the murder of the cavalier, and the unaccountable mystery which connected Frank Leslie with these midnight crimes, had suc- ceeded in creating in the boy's mind an ameunt of distrust, which no kindness, or indulgence, or persuasion on his master's part, could entirely dispose of. So he resolved—at any rate untif he knew more—to remain silent on the subject. ‘‘ Yea, sir,” he said, “I have finished it some time since, sir; but I thought that I would not ' golden chances of disturb the house, and I therefore coiled my self up here. I am used to roughing it, and do not mind a hard bed.” The armourer smiled grimly. ‘ Ah!” he said, “never meet troubles half way, my boy. Come and rest in a good bed while you have one,” “This will satisfy me to-night, sir,” said Harold ; “my entrance will disturb the house. To-morrow I can commence my life anew, and try to be more anxious for luxuries. Te-day,” he murmured to himself “with all I know and fear, I could almost wish that I were a river boy again !”’ The armourer paid no heed to this. ‘‘ To-morrow,” he said, ‘to-morrow! That is the day when fools grow wise, when idlers work, when bad men reform! Talk not of to-morrow, boy. Would to heaven I had had always the strength of soul to do to-day what to-morrow seemed to hold out to me such performing. Come, Harold, it is my wish that you go with me.” Obliged thus to enter the house, the srmourer’s apprentice followed his master; and was soon, in spite of the exciting evente of the night, buried in profound slumber. CHAPTER XL THE MASKED LADY. Ir was with achilling sensation of dread that Harold heard the armourer’s voice, as he swung round his heavy hammer in the workshop on the following morning and sang the burden of @ merry song. ‘‘ Ts it possible that he can be such a monster P” thought the Young Apprentice, as he passed in to his duty. The giant armourer was standing by the forge as Harold entered ; standing opposite the blazing fire, and welding into form a long sharp &wo His face was radiant as he gazed at his wort, and it was with a beaming smile that he turned towards Harold. “Ah! Master Fordyce,” he said, “I have been examining you workmanship. It is fine; fine, my lad, You will be the king of ar- mourer’s,”’ “Tam glad you are satisfied with me,” said Harold, celdly. The armourer did not notice his manner. He was too much engaged in his own thoughts, “Yes; you have done your work well,” con- tinued he; “and, that you may receive the reward of your merit, you shall yourself carry to its owner the task you have wrought. To- night, at eight, I will send a lad with you to Clive House.” Nothing more was said. The other workmen and Quelf came in; and the day was in ordinary labour. At length evening drew in apace, and the night fell. At a quarter to eight, Harold crept into the u\ a \ a | LOWS a COMME OO