“Don’t ask me anything at present, my dear madam,” said Tom. “My scheme is hardly clear to my own mind as yet.” Then, turning to Edith, he added, “But for all that, I hope that a day or two more will see it thoroughly perfected. Time enough then to trouble you with whatever other details it may be necessary for you to know.”
“Some people say that the grand old days when Friendship was something more than an empty name are dead and gone for ever. I will never believe them when they tell me so in time to come.”
So spoke Edith to Tom as they stood together for a moment at the door ere the latter took his leave.
“Dering saved my life,” answered Tom, simply. “But for his brave heart, and his strong arm, the hand you now clasp in yours, and the body to which it belongs, would be mouldering at the bottom of the sea, or else have been buried by strangers in some nameless grave. Can such a service be readily forgotten?”
As Tom was walking through the town towards his lodgings he overtook Hoskyns. They walked down the street together, talking about the trial, which was fixed for the following Monday. Mr. Baldry, the wine and spirit merchant, was standing at the door of his counting-house as they approached. Judging from the appearance of Mr. Baldry’s face, most people would have concluded that he was rather too fond of his own stock in trade, and most people would have been right in their supposition. Hoskyns stopped to speak to him, and proffered his snuff-box as usual. Tom nodded to him.
“You can send me another dozen of that claret—the same as the last,” said Hoskyns. “That is if you, have any of it left in stock.”
“I’ll make an effort to find enough for an old friend,” said Baldry, facetiously. “By-the-by,” he added, “since how long a time is it that you have taken to rambling by moonlight along lonely country roads after ten o’clock at night?”
“I have not the remotest idea, Baldry, what you are talking about,” said Hoskyns, little stiffly.
“Oh, come now, among old friends that won’t do, you know. Whether you’re in love or not is best known to yourself: But it certainly did strike me as something out of the common way to see you walking all alone, between ten and eleven last night, under the lime trees on the Thornfield road.”
“You speak in riddles,” said Hoskyns. “I have not set foot on the Thornfield road for months.”