And with this consolatory reflection, he turned back into the arched entrance—with the intention of recovering the lamp, left in the apartment of the prisoner.
Volume Three—Chapter Two.
While proceeding along the passage, it occurred to Withers that he had left the wicket on the latch. With this unlocked, and the door of the store-room open at the same time, there might be danger of the prisoner making his escape. He knew that the latter was fast bound, both hand and foot; but, in his soldiering experience, he had known more than one captive get free from such fastenings.
To make safe, therefore, he turned back towards the outer gate—with the intention of securing it.
As he stood holding the wicket in his hand, a thought influenced him to look once more into the darkness. Perhaps, after all, Betsey might come back? Her running away might have been only a frolic on her part—meant merely to tease him? He would take another look out at any rate. There could be no harm in that.
With this resolve he remained—holding the door half open, and peering out into the darkness.
He had been thus occupied, scarce ten seconds of time, when an object appeared before his eyes that elicited from him a series of joyful ejaculations. It was the figure of a woman wrapped in hood and cloak, coming round an angle of the wall, and evidently advancing towards the spot where he stood. Who could it be but Betsey?
“Good!” cried Withers. “She has not gone after all. That be she comin’ back round the corner o’ the house. ’Tan’t the way I thought she went off; but I must ha’ been mistaken. Yes; she it be—cloak, hood, and all! I might ha’ knowed she wouldn’t go without gettin’ the kiss. I’m glad on’t hows’soever. A bird in the hand’s worth two in the bush.”