The Broad Highway - Page 191/374

"Just a little, perhaps," said I, and, while she dabbed at her

pretty eyes with her snowy apron, I took pen and ink from the

shelf where I kept them, which, together with George's letter, I

set upon the anvil. "Now," said I, in answer to her questioning

look, "write down just here, below where George signed his name,

what you told me a moment ago."

"You mean, that I--"

"That you love him, yes."

"Oh, Mr. Peter!"

"Prudence," said I, "it is the only way, so far as I can see, of

saving George from himself; and no sweet, pure maid need be ashamed

to tell her love, especially to such a man as this, who worships

the very ground that little shoe of yours has once pressed."

She glanced up at me, under her wet lashes, as I said this, and a

soft light beamed in her eyes, and a smile hovered upon her red lips.

"Do he--really, Mr. Peter?"

"Indeed he does, Prudence, though I think you must know that

without my telling you." So she stooped above the anvil,

blushing a little, and sighing a little, and crying a little,

and, with fingers that trembled somewhat, to be sure, wrote these

four words: "George, I love you."

"What now, Mr. Peter?" she inquired, seeing me begin to unbuckle

my leather apron.

"Now," I answered, "I am going to look for Black George."

"No!--no!" she cried, laying her hands upon my arm, "no! no! if

'ee do meet him, he--he'll kill 'ee!"

"I don't think he will," said I, shaking my head.

"Oh, don't go!--don't go!" she pleaded, shaking my arm in her

eagerness; "he be so strong and wild and quick--he'll give 'ee

no chance to speak--'twill be murder!"

"Prudence," said I, "my mind is set on it. I am going--for your

sake, for his sake, and my own;" saying which, I loosed her hands

gently and took down my coat from its peg.

"Dear God!" she exclaimed, staring down at the floor with wide

eyes, "if he were to kill 'ee--!"

"Well," said I, "my search would be ended and I should be a deal

wiser in all things than I am to-day."

"And he--would be hanged!" said Prudence, shuddering.

"Probably--poor fellow!" said I. At this she glanced quickly up,

and once again the crimson dyed her cheeks.