“I’m sure I hope so, for I’m getting dreadfully frightened; ah! what’s that?” replied her companion with a sudden start; “Oh! it’s only a post, how silly I am! I declare I thought it was a man with a pistol hooked—no—what is it they call it when they’re dangerous and mean to go off, dear?”
“Cocked,” returned Emily; “but surely that is a man, and a very uncomfortable looking one too; walk on quickly, and seem as if you did not perceive him; perhaps he may not take any notice of us.”
The advice was sound, but, unfortunately, the plan did not prove as successful as it deserved to be; the individual in question, who, when they first came in sight, was lying apparently asleep upon some fallen timber by the road-side, rose as they came near, and approaching them, began in a tone half-impertinent, half-imploring, to beg of them. He was a stout, ruffianly-looking fellow, dressed in a style which accorded with his profession. The poor girls were considerably frightened: they were quite a mile from Ashburn, in a lonely part of the road; the evening was closing in rapidly, and there was no human being in sight, except their persecutor, who, walking beside them, grew every minute more pertinacious and imperative. With a most transparent attempt at dignified composure, Emily drew out her purse, and, taking a shilling from it, handed it to him, saying—
“There, that is as much as we shall give you, so you need not follow us any further—good evening.”
Taking the shilling, with a look of sulky dissatisfaction, the fellow paused for a moment in irresolution; but, unfortunately, when Emily produced her purse, his eye had caught the sparkle of gold, and his cupidity was too deeply excited to be so easily satisfied: looking up and down the road, to assure himself that no one was at hand to interfere with his designs, he again followed the trembling girls; and, coming up with them, exclaimed—
“What! will you only give a poor fellow that’s starving, a shilling? and you with a purse full of money in your pocket—and you calls yourselves ladies too? It would only serve you right to show you that ladies was no better than other people.” As he spoke, he pressed rudely against Caroline Selby, who, shrinking from him, whispered in an agony of terror—
“Emily, what will become of us? Pray give him some more money, and entreat him to go away.”
Thus urged, Emily again drew forth her purse, and, trembling at her own temerity, said in an authoritative tone of voice—
“There’s half-a-crown for you, and now go away, and don’t annoy us any more.”
“Not without something better worth taking with me,” was the insolent reply, as, catching her wrist, he attempted to force the purse from her grasp; but Emily, although greatly alarmed, had a brave little heart of her own, and held on stoutly, till the unmanly ruffian, provoked at her pertinacity, used so much force that she relinquished the purse; while at the same moment, partly through pain, partly through fright, she uttered piercing scream.