"I don't understand you!" said he. "You've never been such a fool as to go
and tell him where I am?"
"Yes, I have. I felt I might trust him. He has promised not to prosecute
you. The worst is, he says you must go to America. But come down, Ned, and
speak to him. You owe him thanks, and he wants to see you."
"I can't go through a scene. I'm not up to it. Besides, are you sure he is
not entrapping me to the police? If I had a farthing of money I would not
trust him, but be off to the moors."
"Oh, Edward! How do you think he would do anything so treacherous and mean?
I beg you not to lose time in distrust. He says himself, if Mr. Henry comes
before you are off, he does not know what will be the consequence. The
packet sails for America in two days. It is sad for you to have to go.
Perhaps even yet he may think of something better, though I don't know how
we can ask or expect it."
"I don't want anything better," replied he, "than that I should have money
enough to carry me to America. I'm in more scrapes than this (though none
so bad) in England; and in America there's many an opening to fortune." He
followed her down the steps while he spoke. Once in the yellow light of the
watery day, she was struck by his ghastly look. Sharp lines of suspicion
and cunning seemed to have been stamped upon his face, making it look
older by many years than his age warranted.
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