"Oh no, sir."
At this assurance the traveller rose, and approached Alice softly. He drew away her hands from her face, when she said gently, "Have you much money about you?"
"Oh, the mercenary baggage!" said the traveller to himself; and then replied aloud, "Why, pretty one? Do you sell your kisses so high then?"
Alice frowned and tossed the hair from her brow. "If you have money," she said, in a whisper, "don't say so to father. Don't sleep if you can help it. I'm afraid—hush—he comes!"
The young man returned to his seat with an altered manner. And as his host entered, he for the first time surveyed him closely. The imperfect glimmer of the half-dying and single candle threw into strong lights and shades the marked, rugged, and ferocious features of the cottager; and the eye of the traveller, glancing from the face to the limbs and frame, saw that whatever of violence the mind might design, the body might well execute.
The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie. The wind howled—the rain beat—through the casement shone no solitary star—all was dark and sombre. Should he proceed alone—might he not suffer a greater danger upon that wide and desert moor—might not the host follow—assault him in the dark? He had no weapon save a stick. But within he had at least a rude resource in the large kitchen poker that was beside him. At all events it would be better to wait for the present. He might at any time, when alone, withdraw the bolt from the door, and slip out unobserved. Such was the fruit of his meditations while his host plied the fire.
"You will sleep sound to-night," said his entertainer, smiling.
"Humph! Why, I am /over/-fatigued; I dare say it will be an hour or two before I fall asleep; but when I once am asleep, I sleep like a rock!"
"Come, Alice," said her father, "let us leave the gentleman. Goodnight, sir."
"Good night—good night," returned the traveller, yawning.