"What?"
"I were sent out of the way or disposed of for ever."
"Of that title, dearest Basil; neither your grandfather's wicked hatred, nor the cunning of my uncle—alas! that I should have to say so of one so near—can deprive you."
"Between them, however, they have willed away the estates to my cousin Tony Gauntlet, who bids fair to make ducks and drakes of them, even before his succession comes to pass, for he is deeply involved with jockeys and Jew money-lenders. But I care not what happens, if I am not separated, my sweet little love, from you."
I pressed her to my breast long and passionately.
For several nights I visited Ruth's window in this clandestine manner; and became so expert in the matter, that I actually rubbed the sash of my casement with soap, that it might run smoothly and noiselessly. As yet there came no reply from Sir Basil, but Abraham Clod brought a message from Netherwood, that "he had the gout in both feet, and consequently was unable to write."
Dear to us, indeed, were those stolen interviews, and wild and vague were the plans we began to form for the future, plans chiefly drawn from our romances; but one night we were roused from our happiness by an unlooked for catastrophe.
Just as I was approaching Ruth's window, a voice exclaimed—
"A thief—a thief! I see un—dang thee, tak that!"
Then followed a shriek from Ruth, with the explosion of a gun, and a bullet shattered the panes in both sashes, just above my head.