382 Esther Whanicliff ; QOcr. 



obliterated the momentary impression of better feelings ; " you well 

 know, that you have long found means to provide for both your own 

 and his subsistence." 



" I can labour in another land, as well as here," replied the devoted 

 woman. 



" Not with me !" replied Wharncliff, sternly. " To escape alone will 

 be difficult — thus accompanied, impossible. Nor, Esther," he added, 

 with a bitter smile, " will I longer give you the triumph of witnessing 

 my humiliation. Give me the book, I can find means to dispose of it ; 

 and now," he added, as he took up the package which his v.'ife no longer 

 attempted to detain, " I will look, for the last time, upon my boy, and 

 then farewell in this world." 



So saying, he hurried towards the bed, knelt down by its side, and 

 pressed his lips to the cheek of the child. He then hastily arose, and turn- 

 ing towards his wife, " Forgive me, Esther," he exclaimed, " forgive 

 and pray for me." 



His imfortunate wife had scarcely felt his cheek pressed to her's, had 

 scarcely heard his words, Avhen he rushed from the chamber, and the 

 closing door shut him from her sight. 



She was at length startled by the low voice of the child, wl^o, aroused 

 by her lamentations, bent timidly forwards, and inquired why she wept. 

 Overwhelmed as she was, the faint tremulous voice of infancy sounded 

 almost ghastlj'' on the stillness of night, and she could only reply by a 

 fresh burst of tears. The child was frightened by her sorrow, and his 

 little hand trembled as he flung it round her neck, and said, " Come to 

 bed and dream as I have done : mcthought that angels came to us, and 

 led us over steep paths, and across a dark wide sea, on, on, and on, till it 

 seemed, mother, that we were in heaven." 



" Would that we were," said the afflicted parent; "but go to sleep, 

 boy ; it is not morning yet," and laying her head on the pillow by his 

 side, she soothed her child to rest. 



WharnclifT, in the mean time, had regained the street, and hurried to 

 the abode of a woman named Paine, who had long shared in the dissipa- 

 tion of his patrimonj'^, and more recently in the profits of the gaming- 

 table, and other casual supplies, and whose extravagance had, in a great 

 measure, driven him to the commission of the crime, by which his life 

 was now endangered. 



Determined to share his flight, this woman had spent great part of the 

 night in collecting what small sums it was in her power to obtain, whilst 

 Wharncliff, at her instigation, sought to rob his forsaken wife of her last 

 possessions. 



" By the saints !" he r-xclaimed, as he entered and flung his packet on 

 the ground, if your embassjr has not proved more successful than mine, 

 you may tarry here, and provide for j'ourself ; for I have found nothing 

 to pay my own expenses, much less thine." 



" Had the wench no gold ?" inquired the hardened Paine. 



" Not a farthing ! Poor girl, she had not so much as a crust, yet have 

 I robbed her of those," he added, pointing towards the bundle on the 

 ground. 



" IMuch in little compass, I hope," returned the woman disdainfully. 

 " Doubtless she has some one to assist in spending her earnings, for the 

 neighbours report her industrious." 



" Peace, jade !" interrupted Walter, in a voice which made his com- 



