Had this unfortunate girl been in a different mood, she might have recognized the voice, as she once did on that memorable night when Mr. William’s life was saved. She heard the rap, and the inquiry for her; but knowing her mistress’s commands, and believing the visitor to be one of those whom she had styled impostors and thieves, she had, with considerable energy and irritability, spoken those cutting words, which sent him away in despair.
What agony now struck upon the heart of Margaret! She started at the sound of the bag as it fell at her feet; she looked bewildered for one moment; the truth burst upon her, and she rushed out of the house with such a wild shriek as pierced the heart of every one who heard it. She ran into the street. The night was growing dark; but, on the opposite side of the green, against the garden pales, she saw a sailor standing and looking at the house. She ran to him, seized his arm, and exclaimed, "Laud, is it you?”
He replied, “Yes—hush!”
“Come in, then; come into the house; I am sure you may come in.”
The sailor walked on, with Margaret by his side. He did not speak. This Margaret naturally attributed to her late repulsive words, and she now said, soothingly, by way of apologizing for her harshness—
“I did not intend to send you away. I have lately had several sailors to speak to me about you, and I was only too glad to hear them; but my mistress gave orders to me this day not to have anything more to do with them. I am sure she did not mean to send you away—neither did I intend it. Come back, come back!”
“Come on, come on!" said the sailor, in as soft accents as he could. And, by this time, they had approached the old granary wall, at the back of the park stables. Opposite to these stables was a cow-keeper’s yard, with the dwelling inside the gates. The gates stood open: they might rather be termed folding-doors, for, when shut, no one could see through any part but the keyhole. The sailor turned in here with Margaret, as if he knew the premises, and immediately closed the gates. A light glanced from a window in the cottage, and fell upon the sailor’s face. In an instant Margaret recognized the hated features of John Luff.
The poor girl was paralysed; she was completely in the tiger’s claws; she could not speak, her heart so swelled with agony. She thought of this monster’s cruelty, and believed him to be capable of any desperate deed. She recovered sufficient presence of mind, however, to be resolved to grapple with him, should he have any evil purpose in view. She retreated a few steps toward the gates. He suspected by this that she had discovered who he was, and he threw off the mask in a moment.
“You know who I am, I see; and I know you. I do not want to harm you; but I want to know something from you, which, if you tell me truly, you shall receive no injury; but, if you do not tell me, I tell you plainly that, as you are now in my power, so you shall never escape me. You spoke just now of Will Laud. Now, no tacking about; bear up at once, and come to the point. Tell me where he can be found.”
“I do not know,” replied Margaret.