The affrighted proprietor of the place rushed up. If there was a row he might lose his license. The police were outside. He brought with him his chuckers-out, and order was restored.
In the confusion attending its restoration Rose managed to find her way to the door, her defender walking by her side.
‘Outside,’ she exclaimed joyfully, ‘thank God!’
‘Ah,’ said her companion, ‘how came you there? That was not the place for you.’
‘No, no,’ she said passionately; ‘I was wretched and I went in; but,’ she added, ‘you—how came you there?’
‘What! do you know me?’
‘Of course I do. You came to Sloville, and you made a speech at the Chartist meeting. You were a minister then, I think.’
‘You are right,’ said Wentworth, for it was he; ‘I was hoping to be a minister then. You may well ask how I came to be in yon place. Know, then, that I am a minister no longer—that illusion is past—that I am now a writer for the press and a man about town.’
‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ said the girl. ‘I thought you made such a good speech at the Chartist meeting, and hoped that you would do a great deal of good in the town. Are you happier now than you were then?’
‘Happier, no!’