"Peter, you must go, my poor boy, and go quickly, Nancy says."

"I was sure of it," replied Joey: "I am very, very sorry to leave you, Mrs Chopper. Pray think well of me, for, indeed, I have done nothing wrong."

"I am sure of it; but Nancy knows it all, and away you must go. I wish you were off; I'm getting fidgety about it, although I cannot bear to lose you; so good-bye at once, Peter, and G.o.d bless you! I hope we shall meet again yet."

"I hope so, indeed, Mrs Chopper; for you have been very kind to me, as kind as a mother could be."

Mrs Chopper hugged him to her breast, and then said, in a hurried tone, as she dropped on the bed,--"There; go, go."

Nancy took up Joey's bundle in one hand and Joey by the other, and they went down stairs. As soon as they were in the street, Nancy turned short round, and went to the house where she usually slept, desiring Joey to wait a moment at the door. She soon returned with her own bundle, and then, with a quick pace, walked on, desiring Joey to follow her. They proceeded in this manner until they were clear of the town, when Joey came up to Nancy, and said, "Thank you, Nancy; I suppose we'd better part now?"

"No, we don't part yet, Peter," replied Nancy.

"But where are you going, and why have you that bundle?"

"I am going with you, Peter," replied Nancy.

"But, Nancy--," replied Joey; and then, after a pause, "I will do all I can for you--I will work for you--but I have no money, and I hope we shall not starve."

"Bless you, boy! bless you for that kind feeling! but we shall not starve; I have Mrs Chopper's leave to go with you; indeed, she wished me so to do, and she has given me money for you--it is for you, although she said for both."

"She is very kind; but why should you go with me, Nancy? You have nothing to fear."

"We must not talk now, Peter; let us walk on; I have more to fear than you."

"How is that? I fear being taken up for that of which I am not guilty, but you have nothing to fear."

"Peter, dear," replied Nancy, solemnly, "I do not fear for anything the world can do to me--but don't talk now; let us go on."

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

IN WHICH THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE BRINGS OUR HERO'S NOSE TO A GRINDSTONE.

When Nancy and our hero had proceeded about three miles on their way, Nancy slackened her pace, and they entered into conversation.

"Which way are you going?" demanded Joey.

"I'm cutting right across the country, Peter, or rather Joey, as I shall in future call you, for that is your real name--the marine told me it was Joseph Rushbrook; is it not?"

"Yes, it is," replied Joey.

"Then in future I shall call you so, for I do not want to hear even a name which would remind me of the scene of my misery; and Joey, do you never call me Nancy again, the name is odious to me; call me Mary."

"I will if you wish it; but I cannot imagine why you should run away from Gravesend, Mary. What do you mean to do? I ran away from fear of being taken up."

"And I, Joey, do more; I fly from the wrath to come. You ask me what I intend to do; I will answer you in the words of the catechism which I used once to repeat, 'to lead a new life, have a thankful remembrance of Christ's death, and be in charity with all men.' I shall seek for service; I care not how humble--it will be good enough. I will sift cinders for brick-making, make bricks, do anything, as long as what I do is honest."

"I am very glad to hear you say that, Mary," replied Joey, "for I was always very fond of you."

"Yes, Joey, and you were the first who offered to do a kind thing for me for a long while; I have never forgotten it, and this night I have done something to repay it."

Nancy then entered into a detail of all that had pa.s.sed between her and Furness, of which Joey had been ignorant, and which proved to him what a narrow escape he had had.

"I little thought you had done all this while I slept," replied Joey; "but I am very grateful, Mary."

"I know you are, so say no more about it. You see, Joey, he gave me all your history, and appears to believe that you committed the murder. I do not believe it; I do not believe you would do such a thing, although your gun might have gone off by accident."

"No, Mary, I did not do it, either on purpose or by accident; but you must ask me no more questions, for if I were put on my trial, I should not reveal the secret."

"Then I will never speak to you any more about it, if I can help it. I have my own thoughts on the business, but now I drop it. It is nearly daylight, and we have walked a good many miles; I shall not be sorry to sit down and rest myself."

"Do you know how far we have to go before we come to any town, Mary?"

"We are not far from Maidstone; it is on our right, but it will be as well not to go through so large a town so near to Gravesend. Besides, some of the soldiers may know me. As soon as we come to a good place, where we can find a drink of water, we will sit down and rest ourselves."

About a mile further on they came to a small rivulet which crossed the road.

"This will do, Joey," said Nancy; "now we'll sit down."

It was then daylight; they took their seats on their bundles as soon as they had drunk from the stream.

"Now, Joey," said Mary (as we shall call her for the future), let us see what money we have. Mrs Chopper put all she had in my hands; poor, good old woman, bless her! Count it. Joey; it is yours.

"No, Mary; she gave it for both of us."

"Never mind; do you keep it: for you see, Joey, it might happen that you might have to run off at a moment's warning, and it would not do for you to be without money."

"If I was to run off at a minute's warning, I should then take it all with me, and it would not do for you to be left without any money, Mary; so we must halve it between us, although we will always make one purse."

"Well, be it so; for if you were robbed, or I were robbed, on the way, the other might escape."

They then divided the money, Joey putting his share into his pocket, and tying it in with a string. Mary dropped hers down into the usual deposit of women for bank-notes and billets-doux. As soon as this matter had been arranged, Mary opened her bundle, and took out a handkerchief, which she put on her shoulders; combed out the ringlets which she had worn, and dressed her hair flat on her temples; removed the gay ribbons from her bonnet, and subst.i.tuted some plain brown in their stead.

"There," says she; "now, Joey, don't I look more respectable?"

"You do look more neat and more--"

"More modest, you would say, Joey. Well, and I hope in future to become what I look. But I look more fit to be your sister, Joey, for I have been thinking we had better pa.s.s off as brother and sister to avoid questioning. We must make out some story to agree in. Who shall we say that we are (as we dare not say who we really are)? I am looking out for service, and so are you, that's very clear; father and mother are both dead; father was a baker. That's all true, as far as relates to me: and as you are my brother, why you must take my father and mother.

It's no very great story, after all."

"But it won't do to say we came from Gravesend."

"No; we need not say that, and yet tell no story; the village we pa.s.sed through last night was Wrotham, so we came from thence."

"But where do you think of going, Mary?"

"A good way farther off yet; at all events, before we look out for service, we will get into another county. Now, if you are ready, we will go on Joey, and look out for some breakfast, and then I shall be able to change my gown for a quieter one."