‘Hush!’ replied Newman. ‘Old Bobster—ferocious Turk. He’d kill ‘em all—box the young lady’s ears—he does—often.’
‘What!’ cried Nicholas, in high wrath, ‘do you mean to tell me that any man would dare to box the ears of such a—’
He had no time to sing the praises of his mistress, just then, for Newman gave him a gentle push which had nearly precipitated him to the bottom of the area steps. Thinking it best to take the hint in good part, Nicholas descended, without further remonstrance, but with a countenance bespeaking anything rather than the hope and rapture of a passionate lover. Newman followed—he would have followed head first, but for the timely assistance of Nicholas—and, taking his hand, led him through a stone passage, profoundly dark, into a back-kitchen or cellar, of the blackest and most pitchy obscurity, where they stopped.
‘Well!’ said Nicholas, in a discontented whisper, ‘this is not all, I suppose, is it?’
‘No, no,’ rejoined Noggs; ‘they’ll be here directly. It’s all right.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Nicholas. ‘I shouldn’t have thought it, I confess.’
They exchanged no further words, and there Nicholas stood, listening to the loud breathing of Newman Noggs, and imagining that his nose seemed to glow like a red-hot coal, even in the midst of the darkness which enshrouded them. Suddenly the sound of cautious footsteps attracted his ear, and directly afterwards a female voice inquired if the gentleman was there.
‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas, turning towards the corner from which the voice proceeded. ‘Who is that?’
‘Only me, sir,’ replied the voice. ‘Now if you please, ma’am.’
A gleam of light shone into the place, and presently the servant girl appeared, bearing a light, and followed by her young mistress, who seemed to be overwhelmed by modesty and confusion.