Everything seemed going against him. It was evident, from the way in which the man had pushed him down the stairs, that he was anxious to get rid of him, and would perhaps resort to some speedy way of doing so; and he feared and believed the boy was in league with him. Why Mr. Freeman should have taken such a dislike to him he could not imagine, for he had never seen him that he was aware of. Altogether, it was a mystery which he could not understand; so he gave himself up to despair, and made up his mind that he would never be permitted to leave that place again. Whether his death would be a lingering one of starvation, or whether it would be a quick one by assassination, he could not of course tell;--he almost wished it might be the latter, for the suspense was dreadful.
Hour after hour passed away, and there he sat brooding over his unhappy fate, but no one came to end his woes. Night came on,--he could feel it although he could not see it, for all was cold and dark and dreary around him. The damp was coming out from the walls, and he felt a chill pass through his frame; for he was still weak from his late illness. Exhausted nature was giving way, and sleep was falling on him. He tried to keep awake; for he feared that if he slept in that place he should never wake again. He got up and tried to rouse himself and keep awake by walking to and fro, but it was of no use. His thoughts were terrible. It was better to suffer death than continue in that state of awful suspense. He sat down at last on an empty box, and yielded to that oblivion which soothes and invigorates the frame, while it relieves the mind from harrowing and disagreeable thoughts and feelings.
MRS. BROWN AND MRS. TRENOW INDULGE IN A CROOM O' CHAT. WHILE CAP'N TRENOW GIVES SOME SAGE ADVICE IN ANOTHER QUARTER.
The gossips of St. Just were spared the necessity of inventing idle tales to keep conversation alive,--a practice so prevalent in small communities, where the events that happen in everyday life are generally so uninteresting and monotonous. Events had happened within the last few months which gave ample scope to the most inveterate and accomplished gossip for exercising the art of conversation to the fullest extent, and yet be most truthful; although they still had the power of embellishing the facts according to their own lively fancy and vivid imagination. They could talk of "The Maister" now with the utmost freedom; for he was no longer in the neighbourhood to pry into their secrets, and read their thoughts, and ill-wish them for talking of him and his doings. And, as a reservoir of water that has broken through the embankment, after having been pent up till it was full almost to overflowing, rushes with greater force on its first outburst,--or the pent-up steam in a mighty engine when suddenly let loose,--so did the long-restrained tongues of the gossips of St. Just now pour out, to their hearts' content, their secret spleen and antipathy to their dangerous and dreaded neighbour, Mr. Freeman. There was not a house in which some scandal was not going on continually;--and this was not confined to the women, the men being equally intent on "giving the devil his due," as they termed it.