As he saw Humphrey Armstrong gaze wonderingly at him he raised one hand and pointed to the dimly-seen cliff line, ruddy in the western glow.
“Home, sir,” he cried, hoarsely.
“Yes, Bart, home,” said Humphrey, gloomily. “What are you going to do!”
“You know best, sir. Prison, or the rope!”
Humphrey started sadly, and held out his hand, which the rough fellow, after a momentary hesitation, took.
“Bart, my lad,” said Humphrey, “why not take the old cottage and settle down to your former life! I should like it if you’d do this thing. Will you!”
“Will I!” said the poor fellow in suffocating tones. “God bless you, sir! You’ve made me happier than I ever hoped to be again.”
“Take it or buy it, Bart, as soon as you reach home. I wish it done, only it is to be kept unchanged, as we two keep her secret.”
A fortnight had passed, during which period Humphrey Armstrong had kept himself quite in seclusion, when in obedience to a stern resolve he journeyed slowly up to town.