“I am aware of that, having made it myself——”
“You, Miss Monson! You been at Jerusalem!”
“Why not, Mr. Wilmeter? You say, yourself, that females constantly make the journey; why not I, as well as another?”
“I scarce know, myself; but it is so strange—all about you is so very extraordinary——”
“You think it extraordinary that one of my sex, who has been partly educated in Europe, and who has travelled in the Holy Land, should be shut up in this gaol in Biberry—is it not so?”
“That is one view of the matter, I will confess; but it was scarcely less strange, that such a person should be dwelling in a garret-room of a cottage, like that of these unfortunate Goodwins.”
“That touches on my secret, sir; and no more need be said. You may judge how important I consider that secret, when I know its preservation subjects me to the most cruel distrust; and that, too, in the minds of those with whom I would so gladly stand fair. Your excellent uncle, for instance, and—yourself.”
“I should be much flattered, could I think the last—I who have scarcely the claim of an acquaintance.”
“You forget the situation in which your respectable and most worthy uncle has left you here, Mr. Wilmeter; which, of itself, gives you higher claims to my thanks and confidence than any that mere acquaintance could bestow. Besides, we are not”—another arch, but scarcely perceptible, smile again illuminated that remarkable countenance—“the absolute strangers to each other, that you seem to think us.”
“Not strangers? You amaze me! If I have ever had the honour——”