'For no
good, then.'
Oliver could see that he had some power over the girl's better
feelings, and, for an instant, thought of appealing to her compassion
for his helpless state. But, then, the thought darted across his mind
that it was barely eleven o'clock; and that many people were still in
the streets: of whom surely some might be found to give credence to
his tale. As the reflection occured to him, he stepped forward: and
said, somewhat hastily, that he was ready.
Neither his brief consideration, nor its purport, was lost on his
companion. She eyed him narrowly, while he spoke; and cast upon him a
look of intelligence which sufficiently showed that she guessed what
had been passing in his thoughts.
'Hush!' said the girl, stooping over him, and pointing to the door as
she looked cautiously round. 'You can't help yourself. I have tried
hard for you, but all to no purpose. You are hedged round and round.
If ever you are to get loose from here, this is not the time.'
Struck by the energy of her manner, Oliver looked up in her face with
great surprise. She seemed to speak the truth; her countenance was
white and agitated; and she trembled with very earnestness.
'I have saved you from being ill-used once, and I will again, and I do
now,' continued the girl aloud; 'for those who would have fetched you,
if I had not, would have been far more rough than me. I have promised
for your being quiet and silent; if you are not, you will only do harm
to yourself and me too, and perhaps be my death. See here! I have
borne all this for you already, as true as God sees me show it.'
She pointed, hastily, to some livid bruises on her neck and arms; and
continued, with great rapidity:
'Remember this! And don't let me suffer more for you, just now. If I
could help you, I would; but I have not the power. They don't mean to
harm you; whatever they make you do, is no fault of yours. Hush!
Every word from you is a blow for me. Give me your hand. Make haste!
Your hand!'
She caught the hand which Oliver instinctively placed in hers, and,
blowing out the light, drew him after her up the stairs. The door was
opened, quickly, by some one shrouded in the darkness, and was as
quickly closed, when they had passed out. A hackney-cabriolet was in
waiting; with the same vehemence which she had exhibited in addressing
Oliver, the girl pulled him in with her, and drew the curtains close.
The driver wanted no directions,
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