But the thread of our narrative now lies with Mrs. Mortimer and the beauteous Agnes Vernon.
Scarcely had the cab moved away from the vicinity of the haunted houses, when Agnes began rapidly to recover; and, on opening her eyes, she became aware that she was reclining in the arms of a female, and that they were being borne speedily along in a vehicle. For an instant it struck her that she must be with her mother: but in the next moment the horrors of the night crowded rapidly into her memory,—and, starting up, she demanded in a hurried, anxious manner, “Where am I? and who are you?”
Scarcely were the questions put when the young maiden was enabled, by the silver moon-light, to catch a glimpse of the countenance of her companion; and she instantly recognised Mrs. Mortimer.
Her first emotions were of joy and gratitude;—for she was delighted to find herself in the care of a female—especially one of whom she knew something: and, taking the old woman’s hand, she said, “Madam, I know not how to thank you—and am scarcely aware of what I have to thank you for. But—if my impressions be correct—you must have rescued me from something very terrible! Yes—I recollect now—that door opening—a light appearing—and then that hideous, horrible face——”
And, with a visible shudder, the maiden threw herself back in the vehicle, pressing her hands to her throbbing brows in order to collect her still disjointed and somewhat confused reminiscences.
“You are labouring under dreadful recollections my dear child,” said Mrs. Mortimer, in a soothing tone. “Know you not—can you not suspect that you were in the power of a ruffian when I fortunately encountered you?”
“But where—where?” demanded Agnes, impatiently, as her settling ideas seemed to coincide with that belief.
“I should rather ask you, my sweet maiden,” said Mrs. Mortimer, “how you came to be in Stamford Street this night.”
“My mother took me thither—yes—I recollect it all now!” exclaimed Agnes. “She left me at the house of some dear friends—and I was ungrateful enough to entertain the most injurious suspicions respecting them,—yes—and relative to my own dear mother also.”
“Your mother?” repeated Mrs. Mortimer, in astonishment. “I thought you had never known her—or that she had died when you were in your infancy.”