It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blow_old: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. We had out pea- coats with us, and I took a bag. Of all my worldly possessions I took no mor_han the few necessaries that filled the bag. Where I might go, what I migh_o, or when I might return, were questions utterly unknown to me; nor did _ex my mind with them, for it was wholly set on Provis’s safety. I onl_ondered for the passing moment, as I stopped at the door and looked back, under what altered circumstances I should next see those rooms, if ever.
We loitered down to the Temple stairs, and stood loitering there, as if w_ere not quite decided to go upon the water at all. Of course, I had take_are that the boat should be ready and everything in order. After a littl_how of indecision, which there were none to see but the two or thre_mphibious creatures belonging to our Temple stairs, we went on board and cas_ff; Herbert in the bow, I steering. It was then about high-water,— half-pas_ight.
Our plan was this. The tide, beginning to run down at nine, and being with u_ntil three, we intended still to creep on after it had turned, and ro_gainst it until dark. We should then be well in those long reaches belo_ravesend, between Kent and Essex, where the river is broad and solitary, where the water-side inhabitants are very few, and where lone public-house_re scattered here and there, of which we could choose one for a resting- place. There, we meant to lie by all night. The steamer for Hamburg and th_teamer for Rotterdam would start from London at about nine on Thursda_orning. We should know at what time to expect them, according to where w_ere, and would hail the first; so that, if by any accident we were not take_broad, we should have another chance. We knew the distinguishing marks o_ach vessel.
The relief of being at last engaged in the execution of the purpose was s_reat to me that I felt it difficult to realize the condition in which I ha_een a few hours before. The crisp air, the sunlight, the movement on th_iver, and the moving river itself,—the road that ran with us, seeming t_ympathize with us, animate us, and encourage us on,—freshened me with ne_ope. I felt mortified to be of so little use in the boat; but, there were fe_etter oarsmen than my two friends, and they rowed with a steady stroke tha_as to last all day.
At that time, the steam-traffic on the Thames was far below its presen_xtent, and watermen’s boats were far more numerous. Of barges, sailin_olliers, and coasting-traders, there were perhaps, as many as now; but o_team-ships, great and small, not a tithe or a twentieth part so many. Earl_s it was, there were plenty of scullers going here and there that morning, and plenty of barges dropping down with the tide; the navigation of the rive_etween bridges, in an open boat, was a much easier and commoner matter i_hose days than it is in these; and we went ahead among many skiffs an_herries briskly.
Old London Bridge was soon passed, and old Billingsgate Market with it_yster-boats and Dutchmen, and the White Tower and Traitor’s Gate, and we wer_n among the tiers of shipping. Here were the Leith, Aberdeen, and Glasgo_teamers, loading and unloading goods, and looking immensely high out of th_ater as we passed alongside; here, were colliers by the score and score, wit_he coal-whippers plunging off stages on deck, as counterweights to measure_f coal swinging up, which were then rattled over the side into barges; here, at her moorings was to-morrow’s steamer for Rotterdam, of which we took goo_otice; and here to-morrow’s for Hamburg, under whose bowsprit we crossed. An_ow I, sitting in the stern, could see, with a faster beating heart, Mill Pon_ank and Mill Pond stairs.
“Is he there?” said Herbert.
“Right! He was not to come down till he saw us. Can you see his signal?”
“Not well from here; but I think I see it.—Now I see him! Pull both. Easy, Herbert. Oars!”
We touched the stairs lightly for a single moment, and he was on board, and w_ere off again. He had a boat-cloak with him, and a black canvas bag; and h_ooked as like a river-pilot as my heart could have wished.
“Dear boy!” he said, putting his arm on my shoulder, as he took his seat.
“Faithful dear boy, well done. Thankye, thankye!”
Again among the tiers of shipping, in and out, avoiding rusty chain-cable_rayed hempen hawsers and bobbing buoys, sinking for the moment floatin_roken baskets, scattering floating chips of wood and shaving, cleavin_loating scum of coal, in and out, under the figure-head of the John o_underland making a speech to the winds (as is done by many Johns), and th_etsy of Yarmouth with a firm formality of bosom and her knobby eyes startin_wo inches out of her head; in and out, hammers going in ship-builders’ yards, saws going at timber, clashing engines going at things unknown, pumps going i_eaky ships, capstans going, ships going out to sea, and unintelligible sea- creatures roaring curses over the bulwarks at respondent lightermen, in an_ut,—out at last upon the clearer river, where the ships’ boys might tak_heir fenders in, no longer fishing in troubled waters with them over th_ide, and where the festooned sails might fly out to the wind.
At the Stairs where we had taken him abroad, and ever since, I had looke_arily for any token of our being suspected. I had seen none. We certainly ha_ot been, and at that time as certainly we were not either attended o_ollowed by any boat. If we had been waited on by any boat, I should have ru_n to shore, and have obliged her to go on, or to make her purpose evident.
But we held our own without any appearance of molestation.
He had his boat-cloak on him, and looked, as I have said, a natural part o_he scene. It was remarkable (but perhaps the wretched life he had le_ccounted for it) that he was the least anxious of any of us. He was no_ndifferent, for he told me that he hoped to live to see his gentleman one o_he best of gentlemen in a foreign country; he was not disposed to be passiv_r resigned, as I understood it; but he had no notion of meeting danger hal_ay. When it came upon him, he confronted it, but it must come before h_roubled himself.
“If you knowed, dear boy,” he said to me, “what it is to sit here alonger m_ear boy and have my smoke, arter having been day by day betwixt four walls, you’d envy me. But you don’t know what it is.”
“I think I know the delights of freedom,” I answered.
“Ah,” said he, shaking his head gravely. “But you don’t know it equal to me.
You must have been under lock and key, dear boy, to know it equal to me,—but _in’t a going to be low.”
It occurred to me as inconsistent, that, for any mastering idea, he shoul_ave endangered his freedom, and even his life. But I reflected that perhap_reedom without danger was too much apart from all the habit of his existenc_o be to him what it would be to another man. I was not far out, since h_aid, after smoking a little:—
“You see, dear boy, when I was over yonder, t’other side the world, I wa_lways a looking to this side; and it come flat to be there, for all I was _rowing rich. Everybody knowed Magwitch, and Magwitch could come, and Magwitc_ould go, and nobody’s head would be troubled about him. They ain’t so eas_oncerning me here, dear boy,—wouldn’t be, leastwise, if they knowed where _as.”
“If all goes well,” said I, “you will be perfectly free and safe again withi_ few hours.”
“Well,” he returned, drawing a long breath, “I hope so.”
“And think so?”
He dipped his hand in the water over the boat’s gunwale, and said, smilin_ith that softened air upon him which was not new to me:—
“Ay, I s’pose I think so, dear boy. We’d be puzzled to be more quiet and easy- going than we are at present. But—it’s a flowing so soft and pleasant throug_he water, p’raps, as makes me think it—I was a thinking through my smoke jus_hen, that we can no more see to the bottom of the next few hours than we ca_ee to the bottom of this river what I catches hold of. Nor yet we can’t n_ore hold their tide than I can hold this. And it’s run through my fingers an_one, you see!” holding up his dripping hand.
“But for your face I should think you were a little despondent,” said I.
“Not a bit on it, dear boy! It comes of flowing on so quiet, and of that ther_ippling at the boat’s head making a sort of a Sunday tune. Maybe I’m _rowing a trifle old besides.”
He put his pipe back in his mouth with an undisturbed expression of face, an_at as composed and contented as if we were already out of England. Yet he wa_s submissive to a word of advice as if he had been in constant terror; for, when we ran ashore to get some bottles of beer into the boat, and he wa_tepping out, I hinted that I thought he would be safest where he was, and h_aid. “Do you, dear boy?” and quietly sat down again.
The air felt cold upon the river, but it was a bright day, and the sunshin_as very cheering. The tide ran strong, I took care to lose none of it, an_ur steady stroke carried us on thoroughly well. By imperceptible degrees, a_he tide ran out, we lost more and more of the nearer woods and hills, an_ropped lower and lower between the muddy banks, but the tide was yet with u_hen we were off Gravesend. As our charge was wrapped in his cloak, _urposely passed within a boat or two’s length of the floating Custom House, and so out to catch the stream, alongside of two emigrant ships, and under th_ows of a large transport with troops on the forecastle looking down at us.
And soon the tide began to slacken, and the craft lying at anchor to swing, and presently they had all swung round, and the ships that were takin_dvantage of the new tide to get up to the Pool began to crowd upon us in _leet, and we kept under the shore, as much out of the strength of the tid_ow as we could, standing carefully off from low shallows and mudbanks.
Our oarsmen were so fresh, by dint of having occasionally let her drive wit_he tide for a minute or two, that a quarter of an hour’s rest proved full a_uch as they wanted. We got ashore among some slippery stones while we ate an_rank what we had with us, and looked about. It was like my own marsh country, flat and monotonous, and with a dim horizon; while the winding river turne_nd turned, and the great floating buoys upon it turned and turned, an_verything else seemed stranded and still. For now the last of the fleet o_hips was round the last low point we had headed; and the last green barge, straw-laden, with a brown sail, had followed; and some ballast-lighters, shaped like a child’s first rude imitation of a boat, lay low in the mud; an_ little squat shoal-lighthouse on open piles stood crippled in the mud o_tilts and crutches; and slimy stakes stuck out of the mud, and slimy stone_tuck out of the mud, and red landmarks and tidemarks stuck out of the mud, and an old landing-stage and an old roofless building slipped into the mud, and all about us was stagnation and mud.
We pushed off again, and made what way we could. It was much harder work now, but Herbert and Startop persevered, and rowed and rowed and rowed until th_un went down. By that time the river had lifted us a little, so that we coul_ee above the bank. There was the red sun, on the low level of the shore, in _urple haze, fast deepening into black; and there was the solitary flat marsh; and far away there were the rising grounds, between which and us there seeme_o be no life, save here and there in the foreground a melancholy gull.
As the night was fast falling, and as the moon, being past the full, would no_ise early, we held a little council; a short one, for clearly our course wa_o lie by at the first lonely tavern we could find. So, they plied their oar_nce more, and I looked out for anything like a house. Thus we held on, speaking little, for four or five dull miles. It was very cold, and, a collie_oming by us, with her galley-fire smoking and flaring, looked like _omfortable home. The night was as dark by this time as it would be unti_orning; and what light we had, seemed to come more from the river than th_ky, as the oars in their dipping struck at a few reflected stars.
At this dismal time we were evidently all possessed by the idea that we wer_ollowed. As the tide made, it flapped heavily at irregular intervals agains_he shore; and whenever such a sound came, one or other of us was sure t_tart, and look in that direction. Here and there, the set of the current ha_orn down the bank into a little creek, and we were all suspicious of suc_laces, and eyed them nervously. Sometimes, “What was that ripple?” one of u_ould say in a low voice. Or another, “Is that a boat yonder?” And afterward_e would fall into a dead silence, and I would sit impatiently thinking wit_hat an unusual amount of noise the oars worked in the thowels.
At length we descried a light and a roof, and presently afterwards ra_longside a little causeway made of stones that had been picked up hard by.
Leaving the rest in the boat, I stepped ashore, and found the light to be in _indow of a public-house. It was a dirty place enough, and I dare say no_nknown to smuggling adventurers; but there was a good fire in the kitchen, and there were eggs and bacon to eat, and various liquors to drink. Also, there were two double-bedded rooms,—“such as they were,” the landlord said. N_ther company was in the house than the landlord, his wife, and a grizzle_ale creature, the “Jack” of the little causeway, who was as slimy and smear_s if he had been low-water mark too.
With this assistant, I went down to the boat again, and we all came ashore, and brought out the oars, and rudder and boat-hook, and all else, and haule_er up for the night. We made a very good meal by the kitchen fire, and the_pportioned the bedrooms: Herbert and Startop were to occupy one; I and ou_harge the other. We found the air as carefully excluded from both, as if ai_ere fatal to life; and there were more dirty clothes and bandboxes under th_eds than I should have thought the family possessed. But we considere_urselves well off, notwithstanding, for a more solitary place we could no_ave found.
While we were comforting ourselves by the fire after our meal, the Jack—wh_as sitting in a corner, and who had a bloated pair of shoes on, which he ha_xhibited while we were eating our eggs and bacon, as interesting relics tha_e had taken a few days ago from the feet of a drowned seaman washe_shore—asked me if we had seen a four-oared galley going up with the tide?
When I told him No, he said she must have gone down then, and yet she “took u_oo,” when she left there.
“They must ha’ thought better on’t for some reason or another,” said the Jack, “and gone down.”
“A four-oared galley, did you say?” said I.
“A four,” said the Jack, “and two sitters.”
“Did they come ashore here?”
“They put in with a stone two-gallon jar for some beer. I’d ha’ been glad t_ison the beer myself,” said the Jack, “or put some rattling physic in it.”
“I know why,” said the Jack. He spoke in a slushy voice, as if much mud ha_ashed into his throat.
“He thinks,” said the landlord, a weakly meditative man with a pale eye, wh_eemed to rely greatly on his Jack,—“he thinks they was, what they wasn’t.”
“I knows what I thinks,” observed the Jack.
“You thinks Custum ‘Us, Jack?” said the landlord.
“I do,” said the Jack.
“Then you’re wrong, Jack.”
In the infinite meaning of his reply and his boundless confidence in hi_iews, the Jack took one of his bloated shoes off, looked into it, knocked _ew stones out of it on the kitchen floor, and put it on again. He did thi_ith the air of a Jack who was so right that he could afford to do anything.
“Why, what do you make out that they done with their buttons then, Jack?” asked the landlord, vacillating weakly.
“Done with their buttons?” returned the Jack. “Chucked ’em overboard.
Swallered ’em. Sowed ’em, to come up small salad. Done with their buttons!”
“Don’t be cheeky, Jack,” remonstrated the landlord, in a melancholy an_athetic way.
“A Custum ‘Us officer knows what to do with his Buttons,” said the Jack, repeating the obnoxious word with the greatest contempt, “when they come_etwixt him and his own light. A four and two sitters don’t go hanging an_overing, up with one tide and down with another, and both with and agains_nother, without there being Custum ‘Us at the bottom of it.” Saying which h_ent out in disdain; and the landlord, having no one to reply upon, found i_mpracticable to pursue the subject.
This dialogue made us all uneasy, and me very uneasy. The dismal wind wa_uttering round the house, the tide was flapping at the shore, and I had _eeling that we were caged and threatened. A four-oared galley hovering abou_n so unusual a way as to attract this notice was an ugly circumstance that _ould not get rid of. When I had induced Provis to go up to bed, I wen_utside with my two companions (Startop by this time knew the state of th_ase), and held another council. Whether we should remain at the house unti_ear the steamer’s time, which would be about one in the afternoon, or whethe_e should put off early in the morning, was the question we discussed. On th_hole we deemed it the better course to lie where we were, until within a_our or so of the steamer’s time, and then to get out in her track, and drif_asily with the tide. Having settled to do this, we returned into the hous_nd went to bed.
I lay down with the greater part of my clothes on, and slept well for a fe_ours. When I awoke, the wind had risen, and the sign of the house (the Ship) was creaking and banging about, with noises that startled me. Rising softly, for my charge lay fast asleep, I looked out of the window. It commanded th_auseway where we had hauled up our boat, and, as my eyes adapted themselve_o the light of the clouded moon, I saw two men looking into her. They passe_y under the window, looking at nothing else, and they did not go down to th_anding-place which I could discern to be empty, but struck across the mars_n the direction of the Nore.
My first impulse was to call up Herbert, and show him the two men going away.
But reflecting, before I got into his room, which was at the back of the hous_nd adjoined mine, that he and Startop had had a harder day than I, and wer_atigued, I forbore. Going back to my window, I could see the two men movin_ver the marsh. In that light, however, I soon lost them, and, feeling ver_old, lay down to think of the matter, and fell asleep again.
We were up early. As we walked to and fro, all four together, befor_reakfast, I deemed it right to recount what I had seen. Again our charge wa_he least anxious of the party. It was very likely that the men belonged t_he Custom House, he said quietly, and that they had no thought of us. I trie_o persuade myself that it was so,—as, indeed, it might easily be. However, _roposed that he and I should walk away together to a distant point we coul_ee, and that the boat should take us aboard there, or as near there as migh_rove feasible, at about noon. This being considered a good precaution, soo_fter breakfast he and I set forth, without saying anything at the tavern.
He smoked his pipe as we went along, and sometimes stopped to clap me on th_houlder. One would have supposed that it was I who was in danger, not he, an_hat he was reassuring me. We spoke very
little. As we approached the point, I begged him to remain in a sheltere_lace, while I went on to reconnoitre; for it was towards it that the men ha_assed in the night. He complied, and I went on alone. There was no boat of_he point, nor any boat drawn up anywhere near it, nor were there any signs o_he men having embarked there. But, to be sure, the tide was high, and ther_ight have been some footpints under water.
When he looked out from his shelter in the distance, and saw that I waved m_at to him to come up, he rejoined me, and there we waited; sometimes lying o_he bank, wrapped in our coats, and sometimes moving about to warm ourselves, until we saw our boat coming round. We got aboard easily, and rowed out int_he track of the steamer. By that time it wanted but ten minutes of on_’clock, and we began to look out for her smoke.
But, it was half-past one before we saw her smoke, and soon afterwards we sa_ehind it the smoke of another steamer. As they were coming on at full speed, we got the two bags ready, and took that opportunity of saying good by t_erbert and Startop. We had all shaken hands cordially, and neither Herbert’_yes nor mine were quite dry, when I saw a four-oared galley shoot out fro_nder the bank but a little way ahead of us, and row out into the same track.
A stretch of shore had been as yet between us and the steamer’s smoke, b_eason of the bend and wind of the river; but now she was visible, coming hea_n. I called to Herbert and Startop to keep before the tide, that she migh_ee us lying by for her, and I adjured Provis to sit quite still, wrapped i_is cloak. He answered cheerily, “Trust to me, dear boy,” and sat like _tatue. Meantime the galley, which was very skilfully handled, had crossed us, let us come up with her, and fallen alongside. Leaving just room enough fo_he play of the oars, she kept alongside, drifting when we drifted, an_ulling a stroke or two when we pulled. Of the two sitters one held th_udder-lines, and looked at us attentively, —as did all the rowers; the othe_itter was wrapped up, much as Provis was, and seemed to shrink, and whispe_ome instruction to the steerer as he looked at us. Not a word was spoken i_ither boat.
Startop could make out, after a few minutes, which steamer was first, and gav_e the word “Hamburg,” in a low voice, as we sat face to face. She was nearin_s very fast, and the beating of her peddles grew louder and louder. I felt a_f her shadow were absolutely upon us, when the galley hailed us. I answered.
“You have a returned Transport there,” said the man who held the lines.
“That’s the man, wrapped in the cloak. His name is Abel Magwitch, otherwis_rovis. I apprehend that man, and call upon him to surrender, and you t_ssist.”
At the same moment, without giving any audible direction to his crew, he ra_he galley abroad of us. They had pulled one sudden stroke ahead, had go_heir oars in, had run athwart us, and were holding on to our gunwale, befor_e knew what they were doing. This caused great confusion on board th_teamer, and I heard them calling to us, and heard the order given to stop th_addles, and heard them stop, but felt her driving down upon us irresistibly.
In the same moment, I saw the steersman of the galley lay his hand on hi_risoner’s shoulder, and saw that both boats were swinging round with th_orce of the tide, and saw that all hands on board the steamer were runnin_orward quite frantically. Still, in the same moment, I saw the prisoner star_p, lean across his captor, and pull the cloak from the neck of the shrinkin_itter in the galley. Still in the same moment, I saw that the face disclosed, was the face of the other convict of long ago. Still, in the same moment, _aw the face tilt backward with a white terror on it that I shall neve_orget, and heard a great cry on board the steamer, and a loud splash in th_ater, and felt the boat sink from under me.
It was but for an instant that I seemed to struggle with a thousand mill-weir_nd a thousand flashes of light; that instant past, I was taken on board th_alley. Herbert was there, and Startop was there; but our boat was gone, an_he two convicts were gone.
What with the cries aboard the steamer, and the furious blowing off of he_team, and her driving on, and our driving on, I could not at firs_istinguish sky from water or shore from shore; but the crew of the galle_ighted her with great speed, and, pulling certain swift strong strokes ahead, lay upon their oars, every man looking silently and eagerly at the wate_stern. Presently a dark object was seen in it, bearing towards us on th_ide. No man spoke, but the steersman held up his hand, and all softly backe_ater, and kept the boat straight and true before it. As it came nearer, I sa_t to be Magwitch, swimming, but not swimming freely. He was taken on board, and instantly manacled at the wrists and ankles.
The galley was kept steady, and the silent, eager look-out at the water wa_esumed. But, the Rotterdam steamer now came up, and apparently no_nderstanding what had happened, came on at speed. By the time she had bee_ailed and stopped, both steamers were drifting away from us, and we wer_ising and falling in a troubled wake of water. The look-out was kept, lon_fter all was still again and the two steamers were gone; but everybody kne_hat it was hopeless now.
At length we gave it up, and pulled under the shore towards the tavern we ha_ately left, where we were received with no little surprise. Here I was abl_o get some comforts for Magwitch,— Provis no longer,—who had received som_ery severe injury in the Chest, and a deep cut in the head.
He told me that he believed himself to have gone under the keel of th_teamer, and to have been struck on the head in rising. The injury to hi_hest (which rendered his breathing extremely painful) he thought he ha_eceived against the side of the galley. He added that he did not pretend t_ay what he might or might not have done to Compeyson, but that, in the momen_f his laying his hand on his cloak to identify him, that villain ha_taggered up and staggered back, and they had both gone overboard together, when the sudden wrenching of him (Magwitch) out of our boat, and the endeavo_f his captor to keep him in it, had capsized us. He told me in a whisper tha_hey had gone down fiercely locked in each other’s arms, and that there ha_een a struggle under water, and that he had disengaged himself, struck out, and swum away.
I never had any reason to doubt the exact truth of what he thus told me. Th_fficer who steered the galley gave the same account of their going overboard.
When I asked this officer’s permission to change the prisoner’s wet clothes b_urchasing any spare garments I could get at the public-house, he gave i_eadily: merely observing that he must take charge of everything his prisone_ad about him. So the pocket-book which had once been in my hands passed int_he officer’s. He further gave me leave to accompany the prisoner to London; but declined to accord that grace to my two friends.
The Jack at the Ship was instructed where the drowned man had gone down, an_ndertook to search for the body in the places where it was likeliest to com_shore. His interest in its recovery seemed to me to be much heightened whe_e heard that it had stockings on. Probably, it took about a dozen drowned me_o fit him out completely; and that may have been the reason why the differen_rticles of his dress were in various stages of decay.
We remained at the public-house until the tide turned, and then Magwitch wa_arried down to the galley and put on board. Herbert and Startop were to ge_o London by land, as soon as they could. We had a doleful parting, and when _ook my place by Magwitch’s side, I felt that that was my place hencefort_hile he lived.
For now, my repugnance to him had all melted away; and in the Hunted, wounded, shackled creature who held my hand in his, I only saw a man who had meant t_e my benefactor, and who had felt affectionately, gratefully, and generously, towards me with great constancy through a series of years. I only saw in him _uch better man than I had been to Joe.
His breathing became more difficult and painful as the night drew on, an_ften he could not repress a groan. I tried to rest him on the arm I coul_se, in any easy position; but it was dreadful to think that I could not b_orry at heart for his being badly hurt, since it was unquestionably best tha_e should die. That there were, still living, people enough who were able an_illing to identify him, I could not doubt. That he would be lenientl_reated, I could not hope. He who had been presented in the worst light at hi_rial, who had since broken prison and had been tried again, who had returne_rom transportation under a life sentence, and who had occasioned the death o_he man who was the cause of his arrest.
As we returned towards the setting sun we had yesterday left behind us, and a_he stream of our hopes seemed all running back, I told him how grieved I wa_o think that he had come home for my sake.
“Dear boy,” he answered, “I’m quite content to take my chance. I’ve seen m_oy, and he can be a gentleman without me.”
No. I had thought about that, while we had been there side by side. No. Apar_rom any inclinations of my own, I understood Wemmick’s hint now. I foresa_hat, being convicted, his possessions would be forfeited to the Crown.
“Lookee here, dear boy,” said he “It’s best as a gentleman should not b_nowed to belong to me now. Only come to see me as if you come by chanc_longer Wemmick. Sit where I can see you when I am swore to, for the last o’ many times, and I don’t ask no more.”
“I will never stir from your side,” said I, “when I am suffered to be nea_ou. Please God, I will be as true to you as you have been to me!”
I felt his hand tremble as it held mine, and he turned his face away as he la_n the bottom of the boat, and I heard that old sound in his throat,—softene_ow, like all the rest of him. It was a good thing that he had touched thi_oint, for it put into my mind what I might not otherwise have thought o_ntil too late,— that he need never know how his hopes of enriching me ha_erished.