'Oh Sampson!' he muttered, 'good worthy creature--if I could but
hug you! If I could only fold you in my arms, and squeeze your
ribs, as I COULD squeeze them if I once had you tight--what a
meeting there would be between us! If we ever do cross each other
again, Sampson, we'll have a greeting not easily to be forgotten,
trust me. This time, Sampson, this moment when all had gone on so
well, was so nicely chosen! It was so thoughtful of you, so
penitent, so good. oh, if we were face to face in this room again,
my white-livered man of law, how well contented one of us would
be!'
There he stopped; and raising the bowl of punch to his lips, drank
a long deep draught, as if it were fair water and cooling to his
parched mouth. Setting it down abruptly, and resuming his
preparations, he went on with his soliloquy.
'There's Sally,' he said, with flashing eyes; 'the woman has
spirit, determination, purpose--was she asleep, or petrified? She
could have stabbed him--poisoned him safely. She might have seen
this coming on. Why does she give me notice when it's too late?
When he sat there,--yonder there, over there,--with his white
face, and red head, and sickly smile, why didn't I know what was
passing in his heart? It should have stopped beating, that night,
if I had been in his secret, or there are no drugs to lull a man to
sleep, or no fire to burn him!'
Another draught from the bowl; and, cowering over the fire with a
ferocious aspect, he muttered to himself again.
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