“Indeed!” said Nancy, who had put the questions because she wished to give Joey some information relative to his parents; “gone to America, do you say?”
“Yes, I am inclined to think so, for I lost all trace of them.”
“Well, then,” replied Nancy, “that scruple of mine is got over.”
She then pointed out to Furness the propriety of waiting an hour or two, till people were in bed, that there might be no chance of a rescue; and they returned to the public-house. Furness took another glass of ale, and then fell fast asleep on the bench, with his head over the table.
“So,” thought Nancy, as she left the public-house, “the drunken fool makes sure of his 200 pounds; but there is no time to be lost.”
Nancy hastened back to Mrs Chopper, whom she found sitting with a candle turning over the leaves of one of the old account books.
“O, Nancy, is that you? I was just sighing over you, here’s the things that were ordered for your wedding. Poor girl! I fear you have not often been to church since.”
Nancy was silent for a short time. “I’m sick of my life and sick of myself, Mrs Chopper: but what can I do?—a wretch like me! I wish I could run away, as poor Peter must directly, and go to where I never was known; I should be so happy.”
“Peter must go, do you say, Nancy? Is that certain?”
“Most certain, Mrs Chopper, and he must be off directly I have been with the marines, and the fellow has told me everything; he is only waiting now for me to go back, to come and take him.”