It
was pitch dark, for the moon had not yet risen.
"You just go to bed," said he to the widow; "you'll want your
strength for to-morrow. Jem will be sadly off, if he sees you so
cut up as you look to-night. I'll step down again and find Mary.
She'll be back by this time. I'll come and tell you everything,
never fear. But now, you go to bed."
"Thou'rt a kind friend, Job Legh, and I'll go, as thou wishest me.
But, oh! mind thou com'st straight off to me, and bring Mary as soon
as thou'st lit on her." She spoke low, but very calmly.
"Ay, ay!" replied Job, slipping out of the house.
He went first to Mr. Bridgnorth's, where it had struck him that Will
and Mary might be all this time waiting for him.
They were not there, however. Mr. Bridgnorth had just come in, and
Job went breathlessly upstairs to consult with him as to the state
of the case.
"It's a bad job," said the lawyer, looking very grave, while he
arranged his papers. "Johnson told me how it was; the woman that
Wilson lodged with told him. I doubt it's but a wildgoose chase of
the girl Barton.
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