towards me slowly, with the blank look of terror set rigidly on it once more. I went on at all hazards— it was too late now to draw back.
“The two men spoke to the policeman,” I said, “and asked him if he had seen you. He had not seen you; and then one of the men spoke again, and said you had escaped from his Asylum.”
She sprang to her feet as if my last words had set the pursuers on her track.
“Stop! and hear the end,” I cried. “Stop! and you shall know how I befriended you. A word from me
at us now. Let me lose the impression again as soon as possible. Call her in, out of the dreary moonlight—pray call her in!”
“Mr. Hartright, you surprise me. Whatever women may be, I thought that men, in the nineteenth century, were above superstition.”
“Pray call her in!”
“Hush, hush! She is