pace, and hastily uprose.

'Observe,' he whispered in the widow's ear: 'In him, of whose existence
I was ignorant until to-night, I have you in my power. Be careful how
you use me. Be careful how you use me. I am destitute and starving, and
a wanderer upon the earth. I may take a sure and slow revenge.'

'There is some dreadful meaning in your words. I do not fathom it.'

'There is a meaning in them, and I see you fathom it to its very depth.
You have anticipated it for years; you have told me as much. I leave you
to digest it. Do not forget my warning.'

He pointed, as he left her, to the slumbering form, and stealthily
withdrawing, made his way into the street. She fell on her knees beside
the sleeper, and remained like one stricken into stone, until the tears
which fear had frozen so long, came tenderly to her relief.

'Oh Thou,' she cried, 'who hast taught me such deep love for this one
remnant of the promise of a happy life, out of whose affliction, even,
perhaps the comfort springs that he is ever a relying, loving child to
me--never growing old or cold at heart, but needing my care and duty in
his manly strength as in his cradle-time--help him, in his darkened walk
through this sad world, or he is doomed, and my poor heart is broken!'

Chapter 18

Gliding along the silent streets, and holding his course where they were
darkest and most gloomy, the man who had left the widow's house crossed
London Bridge, and arriving in the City, plunged into the backways,
lanes, and courts, between Cornhill and Smithfield; with no more
fixedness of purpose than to lose himself among their windings, and
baffle pursuit, if any one were dogging his steps.

It was the dead time of the night, and all was quiet. Now and then a
drowsy watchman's footsteps sounded on the pavement, or the lamplighter
on his rounds went flashing past, leaving behind a little track of smoke
mingled with glowing morsels of his hot red link. He hid himself even
from these partakers of his lonely walk, and, shrinking in some arch or
doorway while they passed, issued forth again when they were gone and so
pursued his solitary way.

To be shelterless and alone in the open country, hearing the wind moan
and watching for day through the whole long weary night; to listen to
the falling rain, and crouch for warmth beneath the lee of some old
barn or rick, or in the hollow of a tree; are dismal things--but not
so dismal as the wandering up and down wh