He must have gone home early; one more turn in the street,
and she would go.
During that turn he came out, and in the quiet of that street of
workshops and warehouses, she directly heard his steps. How her
heart failed her for an instant! but still she was not daunted from
her purpose, painful as its fulfilment was sure to be. She laid her
hand on his arm.
As she expected, after a momentary glance at the person who thus
endeavoured to detain him, he made an effort to shake it off, and
pass on. But, trembling as she was, she had provided against this
by a firm and unusual grasp.
"You must listen to me, Jem Wilson," she said, with almost an accent
of command.
"Go away, missis; I've nought to do with you, either in hearkening
or talking."
He made another struggle.
"You must listen," she said again, authoritatively, "for Mary
Barton's sake."
The spell of her name was as potent as that of the mariner's
glittering eye. "He listened like a three-year child."
"I know you care enough for her to wish to save her from harm.
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