And so to be sure, my assistant, to make short work of emptying the room, hurried them off, the last loiterer being the snab, whose look at Elizabeth carried as much of what is called sentiment as might have touched even her, who, however, received the appeal with the same cold indifference she had exhibited all through the strange scene. I do not say she did not feel. It is hardly possible to suppose that a young woman dressed for marriage, and in the hands of the police, with banishment before and shame behind, could be unmoved; but the mind of these creatures is so peculiarly formed that they make none of nature’s signs, and are utterly beyond our knowledge. That something goes on within, deep and far away from even conjecture, we cannot doubt; but it is something that never has been known, and never will be, because they themselves have no words and no symbols to tell what it is. When thus left alone with her, it might have been expected that she would give me some token that she was human, but no; there she stood in all her finery, unmoved and immoveable, her gipsy face calm, if not placid, her eye steady, and without uttering a single word. “And now, Elizabeth,” I said, “I daresay you know the reason of this intrusion; you are accused of having entered no fewer than sixteen dwelling-houses, and stealing therefrom many valuables, and I must apprehend you.”
“Very well.”
“Have you any more keys than those I have got?”
“No more.”
“Were these all you used?”
“You can find that out; I confess nothing.”
“Well, then, make yourself ready to go with me; get your shawl and bonnet.”
And without further sign of being even touched with any feeling of remorse or shame, she proceeded calmly to put on these articles of dress.
“I am ready.”
“Too serious,” thought I, as I looked to a side-table and saw the wine and the cake. I wanted to give things a more cheerful look.