“I’ve a purse of gold,” I said. “I’ll give it to you. With it you may make your way to London and seek out Mr. Bradbury. With this message from me—that he conduct you to my mother, who will befriend you. Come—here’s the purse. I’ll go with you through the wood. You may take a coach from the village inn and drive to London. But I stay here.”
She drew back from me. She whispered, “No! Go now, and take me with you! How should I find my way to London alone, or seek out this man Bradbury, or your mother? I have lived nigh all my life in this house; I am afraid. Go with me!”
“Miss Milne, I must remain,” I said.
“For money?” she said, with scorn; but I answered, “Think that if you will. For adventure, for a promise.”
“It’s like to end in death,” cried she, and drew back from me.
“Well, then, what have you heard?” I asked.
“Plots! Plots! What use to tell you, if you will not heed me? If I tell you, will you go from this house? Will you take me out of it?”
“I do not say I’ll go. But I’ll help you, surely!”
She looked at me with her eyes now dark and sullen; bitterly she said, “I’ve given you warning. I’ll not tell you more. Why should I tell you aught I know? What do I know of you save that you seem a boy—a fool—and not yet lost as they. Though coming of their stock—”
“I do assure you,” I stammered, “I—”