This was enough; Laura became silent. It was evident that this woman was remorseless, and that her best hope to protect her life lay upon the chance of some one passing by.
It was a public footpath. Then she remembered that there was a young man present. He might be corrupted with a look—with a whisper.
She stole a glance towards him; he remained motionless as a statue of black marble, his face hidden by his cloak.
“Who can this man be?” she reflected, “whom she calls her son, and whom I cannot recognise? It must be some one whom she has hired to help her. If so, I may be saved.”
She darted another look piercing as a flame upon the mysterious individual. At this look he hid his head.
“Ah, he knows me, and fears to be recognised. It is perhaps, one of my old comrades. So much the better. He will understand that his employer is less powerful than I am.”
She half turned her head and whispered—
“A hundred pounds for my liberty.”
Mrs. Grover burst into a hoarse laugh.
“She is trying to bribe you. That is because she does not know you.”