Livid with rage, Crayford drew a dirk from his bosom, and rushed suddenly upon the stranger; but in an instant it was wrenched from his hand, then seizing the wretch by the collar, as he would a dog, he hurled him off the curb-stone, and with such force, as sent him half across the street, and then lifting tenderly the form of the fainting girl in his arms, bore her into the house.
The reader will, of course, infer that Crayford and the stranger had met before. They had; nor was this the first dark deed to which the latter knew Crayford might lay claim.
To draw our long digression to a close, suffice it to say, that it was the unfortunate Effie Day whom Florence had met while walking with Crayford, and that the gentleman whom she had pointed out to him in the picture gallery, was no other than the stranger of whom we have just spoken, and whose appearance had so perceptibly agitated her companion.
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CHAPTER V.
We will now return to Florence, whom we left in a state of such cruel suspense, and it would be difficult to say, perhaps, which of the two at the moment she hoped to find the most sincere—Crayford or the unknown.
She felt she had gone too far to recede, and that it had now become her duty to probe this enigma thoroughly. Her confidence in Crayford was too much impaired for her to receive him again into her presence so long as such doubts hung around his character. “I will obey the instructions of this unknown Mentor,” said she, “it cannot be that he is false; no, to this Mrs. Belmont, then, will I go, and go alone.”
Ordering a carriage, therefore, and directing the driver to No. 7 —— Lane, she set forth upon an errand which, for a young, unprotected female, was certainly rather hazardous. Of its locality she had no knowledge; and when she found herself gradually approaching the opposite side of the city from her own residence, passing through narrow streets, and at every turning drawing nearer to the river, she would have felt more apprehension but for the words of the unknown: “Fear not,” urged the note, “one will be near you who will protect you with his life.” These words reassured her, for she had so long accustomed herself to regard him in the light of her protector and friend, that even now, when her doubts almost distracted her, she still gave herself up to the pleasing thought that he was near, and no danger could befall her.
“This is No. 7 —— Lane,” said the coachman, reining in his horses before the thread and needle store of Mrs. Wing, “whom shall I ask for?”
“Never mind, I will go in myself,” answered Florence.