led to the village. It was now very late,
and the cold was so intense that it kept every
person within-doors; for, we heard no sound
in the whole hamlet, except, high up in the
clear air, the ticking of the church clock, and
the loud jangle of the quarters that seemed
like peals of artillery in the excited state of
our minds and senses. Close to the church—
which appeared to guard the entrance of the
village, with its low buttressed walls, and its
watch-tower of a steeple— there was a wretched
ruined-looking cottage, which projected so
far into the lane that the space between it
and the church was not more than eight or
nine feet. It struck us both at the same
moment that if we could effect a lodgment
here, it was impossible for the man to slip
into the village without our observation.

After listening for a while at the windows
and doors of the building, we concluded it
was uninhabited; gently pushing open the
door, we climbed a narrow stone stair-case,
and were making for a gable end window
which we had observed from the road, and
which commanded the whole approach to
the village, when we heard a voice say in a
whisper, as we attained the garret we were
in search of, "Is that you, William ?"

We stopped for a minute or two and the
speaker's expectation was disappointed. We
now placed ourselves at the window, and
listened for the slightest sound. We remained
there, listening, for a long time. Several
quarters had died off into "the eternal
melodies" far up in the church tower, and
we were just beginning to despair of seeing
the object of our search, when Tom nudged
me noiselessly with his elbow.

"Tell ye what!" he whispered very softly,
"there's a footstep round the corner. See!
There's a man under the hedge looking
up at the next window. There— he moves!
We must be after him. Hallo! Stop— he
crosses the lane. He's coming into this very
house!"

I certainly did see a figure silently steal
across the road and disappear under the doorway
of the building we were in. But, we had
no light; and we knew nothing of the
arrangement of the rooms. Another quarter
thrown off from the old church clock, warned
us that the night was rapidly passing away.
We had almost resolved to retrace our steps
if possible, and get back to where we had
left our unfortunate horse, when I was again
nudged by my friend's elbow.

''Tell ye what!" he whispered. "Something's
going on;" and he pointed to a feeble
glimmer on the rafters of the roof above us.

The light proceeded from the next room.,
which had not been built up above the height
of the ceiling joists, so that the roof was
common to both chambers— the adjoining one,
and that in which we were— the partition-
wall being only seven or eight feet high. We
could have heard anything that was said,
but we listened in vain for the slightest
sound. The light, however, continued to
burn; we saw it flickering across the top of
the habitation, and dimly playing far up
among the dark thatch of the roof.

"Tell ye what!" said Tom. "If we could
get up, on these old joists, we could see into
the next room. Hold my pistol till I get up
and— tell ye what!— then I can shoot 'em
easy."

"For Heaven's sake, Tom!" I said, "be
careful. Let me see whether it is the man."

"Come up, then," said Tom, who now
bestrode one of the main beams and gave me
a hand to aid my ascent. We were both on
the level of the dividing wall, and, by placing
our heads a little forward, could see every
portion of the neighbouring room. A miserable
room it was. There was a small round
table, there were a couple of old chairs; but
utter wretchedness was the characteristic of
the cheerless and fireless apartment.

There was a person, apparently regardless
of the cold, seated at the table and reading
a book. The little taper which had been
lighted without any noise, was only sufficient
to throw its illumination on the features and
figure of the reader, and on the table at
which she sat. They were wasted and pallid
features— but she was young, and very pretty;
or the mystery and strangeness of the incident
threw such an interest around her, that I
thought so. Her dress was very scanty,
and a shawl, wrapped closely round her
shoulders, perhaps displayed, rather than
concealed the deficiency of her clothing in
other respects. Suddenly we saw at the
farther end of the room a figure emerge
from the darkness; Tom grasped his pistol
more firmly, and put the cock back,
preventing it from making any noise with his
thumb. The man stood in the doorway, as if
uncertain whether to enter or not. He looked
for a long time at the woman, who still
continued her reading; and then silently
advanced. She heard his step, and lifted up her
head, and looked in his face without saying a
word. Such a face, so pale, so agitated, I
never in my life saw.

"We shall go to-morrow," he said; "I
have got some money as I expected." And
with these words he laid three golden guineas
on the table before her. Still, she said nothing
but watched his countenance with her lips
apart.

"Tell ye what!" said Tom; "That's the
money. Is that the man?"

"I don't know yet, till I see his eyes." In
the meantime, the conversation went on
below.

"I borrowed these pieces from a friend,"
continued the man, as if in answer to the
look she bent on him; "a friend, I tell you.
I might have had more, but I would take
only three. They are enough to carry us
to Liverpool, and, once there, we are sure
of a passage to the West. Once in the
West, the world is before us. I can work,