She was so overwhelmed with astonishment and fear that she could not find words to express herself.
“I have kept my word,” he said slowly, and with something like melancholy and remorse in his tone. “I have at all risks contrived to make you a free woman—free, as far as I am concerned, and free also from the danger which threatened you. Bear witness, Mrs. Bourne, for you alone can do so, that I have been mindful of your interest, that I have shown a desire to shelter and shield you. The tie which bound us was cancelled years and years ago. Now it no longer has existence. It has passed away, and will never rise up in judgment against either of us—never.”
He took the paper in his hand, thrust it into the fire, where in a few moments it was consumed.
Mrs. Bourne looked at him in a state of stupefaction, but he was calm and quite unmoved.
“William Rawton,” she presently exclaimed, “I never would have believed this of you, certainly not, unless I had been witness of it and seen it with my own eyes. I have found a champion and friend where I least expected to meet with one. I know not how to express myself. I never dreamed you had so much magnanimity in your nature. How can I possibly recompense you?”
“I don’t want any recompense,” observed the gipsy. “What I have done has been done for your sake. Perhaps you will find it hard to believe this, but it is a fact nevertheless. I aint of much good in this world, and nobody has a good word for Bill Rawton the gipsy. Nobody cares about him, who is at best an outcast and a blot upon the face of the earth; but it may be in the years that are to come that one person will think well of him, and remember he was not altogether the selfish and abandoned wretch people suppose him to be. If that one thinks well of him—remembers him with something like gratitude—he will be amply rewarded for the favour he has conferred upon her.”
Mrs. Bourne was touched, her eyes were moist with tears, and she stretched forth her hand which the gipsy clasped fervently, and respectfully raised to his lips.
“I am glad to have been of service to you,” he cried. “This is the brightest hour I have known for many a day, and the remembrance of it will last my life.”
“Oh! Rawton, how much I have reason to be thankful for what you have done. I tremble when I reflect upon the act you have committed. Suppose it should be discovered, what then? What a risk you have run!”
“It will not be discovered—rest assured of that. I am in no fear of the consequences.”