would do for money--what you
have done at the bidding of that dreadful wretch, Rivers? Nay, look not
away, I know it all--I know that you had the dagger of Colleton--that
you put it into the hands of the wretch who struck the man--that you saw
him strike--that you strove not to stop his hand. Fear you not I shall
reveal it? Fear you not?--but I will not--I can not! Yet this should be
enough to make you strive in this service. Heard you not, too, when lie
spoke and stopped my evidence, knowing that my word would have saved
him--rather than see me brought to the dreadful trial of telling what I
knew of that night--that awful night--when you both sought his life? Oh,
I could love him for this--for this one thing--were there nothing else
besides worthy of my love!"

The incident to which she referred had not been unregarded by the
individual she addressed, and while she spoke, his looks assumed a
meditative expression, and he replied as in soliloquy, and in broken
sentences:--

"Could I pass to the jail unperceived--gain admittance--then--but who
would grapple with the jailer--how manage that?--let me see--but
no--no--that is impossible!"

"What is impossible?--nothing is impossible in this work, if you will
but try. Do not hesitate, dear uncle--it will look easier if you will
reflect upon it. You will see many ways of bringing it about. You can
get aid if you want it. There's the pedler, who is quite willing, and
Chub--Chub will do much, if you can only find him out."

The landlord smiled as she named these two accessaries "Bunce--why, what
could the fellow do?--he's not the man for such service; now Chub might
be of value, if he'd only follow orders: but that he won't do. I don't
see how we're to work it, Lucy--it looks more difficult the more I think
on it."

"Oh, if it's only difficult--if it's not impossible--it will be done. Do
not shrink back, uncle; do not scruple. The youth has done you no
wrong--you have done him much. You have brought him where he is, he
would have been safe otherwise You must save him. Save him, uncle--and
hear me as I promise. You may then do with me as you please. From that
moment I am your slave, and then, if it must be so--if you will then
require it, I am willing then to become _his_ slave too--him whom you
have served so faithfully and so unhappily for so long a season."

"Of whom speak you?"

"Guy Rivers! yes--I shall then obey you, though the funeral come with
the bridal."

"