Alas! That its poor father
Should want a shroud and grave.”
“Now I know her—now I know her!” cried Britton. “Damnation, it’s—it’s Mad Maud! Shall I fly from her—or—or kill her?”
Before he could decide upon a course of action, the poor creature was close to him. She laid her hand upon his arm—
“Found—found,” she shrieked. “Ha! Ha! Ha! Found at last. Andrew Britton I have travelled many miles to find thee out.”
“Away, cursed hag!” cried Britton,
“I have sought you,” continued the poor woman, “oh, how I have sought you and Learmont too. You see I am mad, and so I know more than ordinary people. The day is coming—the day of vengeance, and I have come to London to see it. I have asked often—often for you, Andrew Britton, and now you are found.”
“Devil!” cried Britton, “why do you haunt me?”
“Haunt you! Yes, that is the word, I do haunt you! I will haunt you to the last.”
“Indeed! Perhaps you may meet with some accident.”