"As true as you are there, I would not harm a hair of your head!" cried Josh Pedler, emphatically. "I shudder when I think of that dreadful business down at the Cottage yonder—in fact, I can't bear to think of it. I don't say that I am actually afraid at being in the dark; but darkness causes terrible thoughts. It seems as if the mind had eyes, and couldn't shut them against particular things;—and now that I have found out this much, I should be a long time before I did a wrong deed again, even if I was turned out into the midst of London this very minute without a penny in my pocket."
"What would you do if you were set free this moment?" demanded the Blackamoor. "At the same time, do not suppose that you are about to have your liberty."
"I am not mad enough to fancy it possible," replied Josh Pedler. "But if such a thing did happen, I would go to Matilda—the gal that I spoke to you about, sir——"
"And who is now in a comfortable position," added the Black.
"Yes—thanks to your kindness," said the man; "and I should like you as long as I lived, if it was only on account of what you have done for her. But, as I was going to tell you—supposing I was set free, I would take 'Tilda with me into the country—as far away from London as possible; and then I'd change my name, and try to get work. Ah! I should be happy," he continued, with a profound sigh, "if I could only earn enough to keep us in a little hut. But don't make me talk in this way any longer: I feel just—just as if I—I was going to cry."
The man's voice became faltering and tremulous as he uttered these last words; and his lashes were moistened with tears.
"Should you feel pleasure in writing a letter to Matilda?" asked the Blackamoor, in a kind tone.
"Yes—above all things!" eagerly cried the criminal. "I am no great penman; but she could make out my scribbling, I dare say;—and it would do me good to give her some proper advice—I mean, just to let her know what my thoughts is at times. Besides, now that I'm separated from her, I find that I liked her more—yes—a good deal more than I used to fancy I did; and I should be glad to beg her forgiveness for what I made her do when I was sick and in want."
"You shall have a light and writing-materials," observed the Black.
"You are a good man—I feel that you are, sir!" exclaimed Josh Pedler, the tears now trickling down his cheeks. "If I had only fallen in with such a person as yourself, when I was young, I shouldn't have turned out as I did. But though people may never know that it is possible for a fellow like me to alter, yet altered my mind is—and I don't look on things as I used to do."