What good'll it do you or the rest to hev me ther'? To make
me afraid? It's poor learnin' frum fear. Who taught me what was
right? Who cared? No man cared fur my soul, till I thieved 'n'
robbed; 'n' then judge 'n' jury 'n' jailers was glad to pounce on
me. Will yoh gev me a chance? will yoh?"
It was a desperate face before him; but Holmes never knew fear.
"Stand aside," he said, quietly. "To-morrow I will see you. You
need not try to escape."
He passed him, and went slowly up through the vacant mill to his
chamber.
The man sat down on the lower step a few moments, quite quiet,
crushing his hat up in a slow, steady way, looking up at the
mouldy cobwebs on the wall. He got up at last, and went in to
Lois. Had she heard? The old scarred face of the girl looked
years older, he thought,--but it might be fancy. She did not say
anything for a while, moving slowly, with a new gentleness, about
him; her very voice was changed, older. He tried to be cheerful,
eating his supper: she need not know until to-morrow. He would
get out of the town to-night, or---- There were different ways
to escape. When he had done, he told her to go; but she would
not.
"Let me stay til' night," she said. "I be n't afraid o' th'
mill."
"Why, Lo," he said, laughing, "yoh used to say yer death was hid
here, somewheres."
"I know. But ther' 's worse nor death. But it'll come right,"
she said, persistently, muttering to herself, as she leaned her
face on her knees, watching,--"it'll come right.
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