The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

i. > 2 CLia~) °. 4, ; FADE 38 THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; OR, 74 o) ( wide haJl, where he knew that the armourer’s cloak hung, The piece he had cut off en the preceding night was in his hand. Hagerly he approached the spot. lé the piece matohed the cloak, the armourer —by every circumstance—would be declared, branded as the midnight agsassin. e place was reached ; the cloak seized. He listened anxiously ; no one was near, and he raised the end of the cloak. It was too true, Lhe cloak was torn, and the rent corresponded nith the piece he had abstracted. _ The horrible certainty hat, if I may so term it, scarcely formed itself in his mind, when he heard Leslie’s voice, and saw the giant approach- Ing across the yard, ‘Ah! Harold,” he cried, “here you are. I have the breast-plate here ready; this lad is stronger than you, and will carry it for you, - You know Clive House ?” “It is near the spot where I first saw my benefactor,” returned the Young Apprbntice. “It 1a.” “Then I know it well, and will see that it is properly delivered,” | The armourer watched the lad out, and then as he disappeared, he struck his broad chest fiercely with his clenched ffxt, ‘Ab ! this is a crucl—a bitter fate, indeed,’ he murmured ; ‘‘even this honest boy of mine mistrusts and fears me. Oh, that this mystery were ripe for solution, that I might be freed from these bonds of secrecy for ever !” Then assuming, as far as he was able, a genial mood, he passed into the room where his two daughters awaited him, eanwhile, Harold and his attendant pro- ceeded on thelr way along the Strand, Clive Hougé Was not far distant. It was, as Harold had said, very near to the spot where he had first met his benefactor, and been the means of preserving him from the assassin's knife, and it was not long, therefore, befote they halted before its iron-bound gate. A man servant opened the door, and eyed — and his companion somewhat distrast- ully. ‘‘ Who are you?” he asked, “Tam Harold Fordyce. I come from Mr. Leslie, the armourer in the Strand,” returned Harold, boldly. : It was not long before Harold and his com- panion were ushered up a broad and noble staircase, into a lofty room, where grim old portraits stared down at them from dark- anelled walls, and where the muffed light of a uge oil lamp fell upon carved chairs, like those used in cathedrals, and solid tables, and gilt- paned windows, where evcr all there was an air of mystcrious awe and solemnity, They had not long to wait, After a few moments, the door opened, and a lady entered. She was tall, finely formed, and evidently young, though her features were hidden by a black domino, Harold glanced at her in surprise and wonderment, “ Where is what you have brought me?" she asked, in a low tone, which she was evidently endeavouring to disguise, ‘“ For you, madam ?” “Yes; the breast-plate. once.” The tone of authority in which she apoke made it evident to Harold that she had a right to what she asked, yet he could not resist the temptation of saying, as he unfolded the piece of mail— “I had expected to meet a gentleman.” The lady smiled. “Yes, no doubt,” she said; thia is for a gentleman. I am but commissioned to receive it.” As Harold uncovered the exquisite device, she looked: long and earnestly at it; her eyes seeming to linger with peculiar zest upon the representation of the birds of prey. It is good, very good,” she said; “worthy of Master Leslic. Tell him it is received with satisfaction, and will be paid for handsomely. You can go now.” The last words, spoken more haughtily and yet more naturally than the rest of her speech, made Harold start, and look searchingly at her. The lady averted her face, There was no excuse for stopping. ‘‘Come,” said Harold, to his companion. ‘‘ Madam, I wish you a respectful good night.” “Good night,” returned the lady; “and in these troublous times, take my advice—meddle as little as you can in things which concern you not. Avoid the discovery of secreta, for in the discovery of many of them lies the key to a greater secret—death !” Having uttered these words in a solemn voice, the lady quitted the central tabie whereon lay the breast-plate, and passed towards the case- ment, Without replying, Harold quitted the room, followed by the boy, and in a few moments the servant had conducted them down the broad staircase once more, and ushered them into the street. ‘‘T ama bad reader of faces, and know very little of people’s forms and voices,’”’ said Harold, as they walked away, “or I know the lady who received our parcel.’’ “ Who is she ?” * Did you not recognise her ?”’ “No; I cannot remember having seen her before,” said the youth. “ Well,” returned Harold, “I, who have been mized up with her so muoh, oan scarcely have made anerror. I am either a fool or that lady nas Alicia Leslie !" ‘Our master’s daughter! Impossible!” said ‘It does seem #0; but, nevertheless, I feel assured it isso, Say nothing of it to any one. Remember what she said—it is perilous to seek into secrete. You can go on, now,” he added, suddenly ; “I will follow you. If Master Les- lie is within, tell him that we have performed our errand properly,” The reason of Harold's sudden stop was not evident to the boy, who said { Good night,” and departed. Let me sec it at ww 4 \TA. - COLT GONE IOO O146S