--Can you
whistle, Helen?"
"Yes, Poldie," answered Helen, trembling. "Don't you remember
teaching me?"
"Yes, yes.--Then, when you come near the house, whistle, and go on
whistling, for if I hear a step without any whistling, I shall kill
myself."
"What have you got there?" she asked in renewed terror, noticing
that he kept his hand in the breast pocket of his coat.
"Only the knife," he answered calmly.
"Give it to me," she said, calmly too.
He laughed, and the laugh was more terrible than any cry.
"No; I'm not so green as that," he said. "My knife is my only
friend! Who is to take care of me when you are away? Ha! ha!"
She saw that the comfort of the knife must not be denied him. Nor
did she fear any visit that might drive him to its use--except
indeed the police WERE to come upon him--and then--what better
could he do? she thought.
"Well, well, I will not plague you," she said. "Lie down and I will
cover you with my shawl, and you can fancy it my arms round you. I
will come to you as soon as ever I can."
He obeyed. She spread her shawl over him and kissed him.
"Thank you, Helen," he said quietly.
"Pray to God to deliver you, dear," she said.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164