'Ay, sir, that's all we can do. I shall keep a sharper lookout to-night than I've ever done, and, please God, they'll be kept from doing harm to others and bringing sorrow on themselves,' said the good and pious old watchman.
CHAPTER XXIII.
OUTWITTED.
All that night Sarah lay and tossed and turned, or fell into fitful slumbers, in which she had hideous dreams of the mills being burnt down, and her father with them. After a very vivid one, in which she saw the mill-owner standing, a tall, burly figure, on the top of one of the chimneys, with flames all round him which in a minute must devour him, she woke with a muffled cry, to find Naomi standing beside her with a frightened face.
'What has happened, Naomi? Tell me the worst at once,' cried Sarah.
'There's nought to tell, good or bad, so far as I know. But are you ill, Miss Sarah?' inquired the maid.
'No; I'm quite well. But the mills, and my father—are you sure that—that he's alive and well?' asked Sarah.
'So far as I know he is, and so are the mills; but no one has seen the master since yesterday, for he never came home last night. He sent to say he should stop in the mills all night,' said Naomi.
'Naomi, I must get up. Quick, get me some hot water,' cried Sarah, jumping up as she spoke.