Ernest Maltravers | Page 5

we are very poor people--hard-working, but very poor."
"Never mind me," answered the stranger, busying himself in stirring
the fire; "I am tolerably well accustomed to greater hardships than
sleeping on a chair in an honest man's house; and though you are poor,
I will take it for granted you are honest."
The man grinned: and turning to Alice, bade her spread what their
larder would afford. Some crusts of bread, some cold potatoes, and
some tolerably strong beer, composed all the fare set before the
traveller.
Despite his previous boasts, the young man made a wry face at these
Socratic preparations, while he drew his chair to the board. But his look
grew more gay as he caught Alice's eye; and as she lingered by the
table, and faltered out some hesitating words of apology, he seized her
hand, and pressing it tenderly--"Prettiest of lasses," said he--and while
he spoke he gazed on her with undisguised admiration--"a man who has
travelled on foot all day, through the ugliest country within the three
seas, is sufficiently refreshed at night by the sight of so fair a face."
Alice hastily withdrew her hand, and went and seated herself in a
corner of the room, when she continued to look at the stranger with her
usual vacant gaze, but with a half-smile upon her rosy lips.

Alice's father looked hard first at one, then at the other.
"Eat, sir," said he, with a sort of chuckle, "and no fine words; poor
Alice is honest, as you said just now."
"To be sure," answered the traveller, employing with great zeal a set of
strong, even, and dazzling teeth at the tough crusts; "to be sure she is. I
did not mean to offend you; but the fact is, that I am half a foreigner;
and abroad, you know, one may say a civil thing to a pretty girl without
hurting her feelings, or her father's either."
"Half a foreigner! why, you talk English as well as I do," said the host,
whose intonation and words were, on the whole, a little above his
station.
The stranger smiled. "Thank you for the compliment," said he. "What I
meant was, that I have been a great deal abroad; in fact, I have just
returned from Germany. But I am English born."
"And going home?"
"Yes."
"Far from hence?"
"About thirty miles, I believe."
"You are young, sir, to be alone."
The traveller made no answer, but finished his uninviting repast and
drew his chair again to the fire. He then thought he had sufficiently
ministered to his host's curiosity to be entitled to the gratification of his
own.
"You work at the factories, I suppose?" said he.
"I do, sir. Bad times."
"And your pretty daughter?"

"Minds the house."
"Have you no other children?"
"No; one mouth besides my own is as much as I can feed, and that
scarcely. But you would like to rest now; you can have my bed, sir; I
can sleep here."
"By no means," said the stranger, quickly; "just put a few more coals
on the fire, and leave me to make myself comfortable."
The man rose, and did not press his offer, but left the room for a supply
of fuel. Alice remained in her corner.
"Sweetheart," said the traveller, looking round and satisfying himself
that they were alone: "I should sleep well if I could get one kiss from
those coral lips."
Alice hid her face with her hands.
"Do I vex you?"
"Oh no, sir."
At this assurance the traveller rose, and approached Alice softly. He
drew away her hands from her face, when she said gently, "Have you
much money about you?"
"Oh, the mercenary baggage!" said the traveller to himself; and then
replied aloud, "Why, pretty one? Do you sell your kisses so high then?"
Alice frowned and tossed the hair from her brow. "If you have money,"
she said, in a whisper, "don't say so to father. Don't sleep if you can
help it. I'm afraid--hush--he comes!"
The young man returned to his seat with an altered manner. And as his
host entered, he for the first time surveyed him closely. The imperfect
glimmer of the half-dying and single candle threw into strong lights
and shades the marked, rugged, and ferocious features of the cottager;

and the eye of the traveller, glancing from the face to the limbs and
frame, saw that whatever of violence the mind might design, the body
might well execute.
The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie. The wind howled--the rain
beat--through the casement shone no solitary star--all was dark and
sombre. Should he proceed alone--might he not suffer a greater danger
upon that wide and desert moor--might not the host follow--assault him
in the dark? He had no weapon save a