Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1897-08-14

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VoDenUeaU 20 Le1d6a. But In the auster Of
my spirits did not meessare the distance I
had to 90, 3e the time should consume In
Walking. Ny main Anxfety for the mo-
to probe my fortune and success, and ap-
preciate both the relief and the good luck
had comprised. I could have sung as 1
walked: I could have skipped and danced:
and CLEAN OF sunshine breaking the
March sky and gliding tho ieafiess arms of
the trees and the fiat green pastures that
bordered the road north Of Hyde Park.
was moved to raise my hat and look up
this wonderful instance Of It's goodness,
which I had not had the heart to do for
some time.
When descended little to earth, step
which was hsstened by q Hash Of recol-
lection that showed me Ferguson's niece
waiting at Clerkenwell gate. a little figure
forlorn and desolate. yet with eyes OF wrath
and a face puckered with determination
to think of Hogsden Gardens and remem-
bered that 1t lay on the farther side of
town by Bunhill Fields. was already at
Tyburn turning, and It seemed to be no
longer worth while to ride. The day was
on the wane, and the road thence to St.
Giles pound was lively with persons come
cut to take the air; through whom
threaded my way at q good pace, and COM
ing to Holborn without mishap, turned up
Cow lane and so got speedily to Smithfield
and across the market to Long lane know
ing my way SO far without having need to
ask.
Here, however, I took sudden fright. My
mind, which, as I walked, had been busy
with the girl and the steps 1 should take
to find her-if. indeed, I wished to find her.
about which was puzzled, the surround
ing circumstances being so different-was
invaded by the notion that had been long
on the road. To this was added next mo-
ment the reflection that messengers sent
to arrest the duke could, by taking a coach
fOT0Stall The mo into
hot fit, which increased on me when 1 con-
sieered that did not know the remainder
OF the road. and might waste much time in
tracing 1t. Naturally, my first impulse in
this strait was to seek a guide, but Long
lane by Smithfield is only one degree bet
ter than Milestone Park, and 1 shrank
from applying to the sots and drabs, who
stood at the doors and corners or lounxed
out Of the patched windows and lazily or
rudely watched me go by.
In this dfff1culty and growing the more
dthdent and alarmed the more slowly 1
walked, 1 looked about eagerly for some
person Of passable aspect of whom I
could inquire. 1 saw none, and my uncer-
tain chances and lettering step were begin
n-ng TO draw on me advances and an at
tention that were anything but welcome,
when, reaching a corner where an alley.
now removed-and I think 1t was then call
ed log a!ley-runs out of Long lane I saw
man. decently habited. come out of a
mouse a little way down the alley He
closed the door sharply behind him. and Is
| l looked. went of in the opposite direction.
Here was my opportunity. Without los
| ing moment l ran after him, and he.
hearing my steps. turned, and we came
face to face. Then. when it was too late to
retreat. 1 saw with unutterable dismay
that the man I had stopped was no strang-
er. put the person who had dressed me up
the night before and taken me to the mys-
| ferrous house in the suburbs-the man
called Smith. whom had first seen under
| the piazza In Covent Garden, and again in
| Ferguson's room.
To come face to face with any one of the
| gang, with the knowledge that 1 had but
| now left the palace after informing against
them. was of itself enough to make my
knees tremble under me. But of this man.
| though his civil treatment had been in
pleasant contrast to Ferguson's brutality,
| had conceived an instructive dread; based
| as mucn On his silence and reserve and a
sort OF quiet power with which credited
| him. as on his contemptuous treatment Of
my tyrant. In a word. had come on Fer
guson himself. L could scarcely have been
| more overcome.
On hearing my footsteps he had turned
| on me very sharply, with the air of a man
who had no mind to be followed and no
taste for followers. But on seeing who it
was, his face grew light, and he wlistled
his surprise. Il was On my way to YOU"
he said. land here you are. That is good
luck l suppose Ferguson sent your"
| No, l said. avoiding his eyes, and WON
| dering with inward quakings what was
going to happen to me. I'll lost my
| road"
| OH said he. and looked keenly at me.
Lost your road. did you? Well. 1t was
| very much to the purpose as 1t happened.
May ask where you were going?"
1 shifted my feet uneasily. ITO Bunhill
Fields" said, naming the first place of
| which could think.
All! he answered, with apparent care
lessness; and though it seemed scarcely
possible he should fail to observe the heat
and disorder into which his presence had
| thrown me- he made no sign. We'll. you
are not far OUT he continued, land will
| come with you. When you have done your
errand we will talk over my business This
| way. l know this end of the town we'll
| And so 1t was not Ferguson he added,
| with sharp look at me, who sent you
after me?"
mo" said.
Nor his errand that brought you here?'
No. 1 said again. my mouth dry. ''And
| need not give you the trouble to come
with me. 1 shall be taking you"
swered.. briskly. "And it is no trouble.
Come along. my friend"
l dared say no more. nor show farther
reluctance; and SO, with feet like lead and
eyes rowing furtiveIy for a way of escape.
| turned and went with him. Nay, it was
F.! not my feet only that were Weighted: the
letter, and my consciousness Of it, lay SO
heavy on my mind 1t was like lead in -he
pocket.
1 was indeed in a strait now! And in one
so dlf1cult could discern no way. out IF
It; for though l could in part, and in part
| only, command my countenance, 1 failed
absolutely to command my thoughts. which
| did nothing but revolve unanimously about
| the words, What am I to do? What am
| to do?'' Words that seemed written in
| red letters my brain. Only one thing
was clear to me in the confusion and that
was the urgent necessity 1 lay under of
| hiding my errand, the disclosure of which
must carry with it the disclosure of the
place whence l came and the company
had been keeping. With time to think, and
GOODNESS to distinguish. should doubtless
have seen the possibility of announcing
my errand to the duke, yet laying 1t On
Ferguson's shoulders; but pushed for time
and unable at a pinch to weigh all the
| issues, I could form no determination, much
| less one leading to SO daring step. After
| one denial. that is.
In the meantime we moved on: and at
| first my companion seemed to be uncon-
scious of my sluggish pace and my per-
turbation. But presently felt rather than
saw that from minute to minute he glanced
at me askance, ard that after each Of
| these inspections he laughed silently. The
knf Wedge that lay under these observa-
| lions immeasurably increased my embar-
rassment; could no longer put fair face
on the matter, but every time he looked at
| me looked away guilty. unable to support
! his eyes. This presently grew SO insup-
oh hot IN