Here, after much
hammering on the door, King managed to arouse an old crone from the
chimney-corner chair, where she had been dozing in the watch; and
we were had in, and entertained with a dish of hot tea. This old
lady was an aunt of Burchell Fenn's--and an unwilling partner in
his dangerous trade. Though the house stood solitary, and the hour
was an unlikely one for any passenger upon the road, King and she
conversed in whispers only. There was something dismal, something
of the sick-room, in this perpetual, guarded sibilation. The
apprehensions of our hostess insensibly communicated themselves to
every one present. We ate like mice in a cat's ear; if one of us
jingled a teaspoon, all would start; and when the hour came to take
the road again, we drew a long breath of relief, and climbed to our
places in the covered cart with a positive sense of escape. The
most of our meals, however, were taken boldly at hedgerow
alehouses, usually at untimely hours of the day, when the clients
were in the field or the farmyard at labour. I shall have to tell
presently of our last experience of the sort, and how unfortunately
it miscarried; but as that was the signal for my separation from my
fellow-travellers, I must first finish with them.
I had never any occasion to waver in my first judgment of the
Colonel.
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