"You think so, and yet know who I am."--"I do, indeed."
"And what I am. Why, if I were to go into the market-place of yon town, and proclaim myself, would not all shun me--ay, even the very lowest and vilest; and yet you talk of an act of kindness not being altogether inconsistent with my nature!"--"I do, because I know something more of you than many."
There was a silence of some moments' duration, and then the stranger spoke in a tone of voice which looked as it he were struggling with some emotion.
"Sir, you do know more of me than many. You know what I have been, and you know how I left an occupation which would have made me loathed. But you--even you--do not know what made me take to so terrible a trade."--"I do not."
"Would it suit you for me now to tell you?"--"Will you first promise me that you will do all you can for this persecuted family of the Bannerworths, in whom I take so strange an interest?"
"I will. I promise you that freely. Of my own knowledge, of course, I can say but little concerning them, but, upon that warranting, I well believe they deserve abundant sympathy, and from me they shall have it."
"A thousand thanks! With your assistance, I have little doubt of being able to extricate them from the tangled web of dreadful incidents which has turned them from their home; and now, whatever you may choose to tell me of the cause which drove you to be what you became, I shall listen to with abundant interest. Only let me beseech you to come into this summer-house, and to talk low."
"I will, and you can pursue your watch at the same time, while I beguile its weariness."--"Be it so."
"You knew me years ago, when I had all the chances in the world of becoming respectable and respected. I did, indeed; and you may, therefore, judge of my surprise when, some years since, being in the metropolis, I met you, and you shunned my company."--"Yes; but, at last, you found out why it was that I shunned your company."
"I did. You yourself told me once that I met you, and would not leave you, but insisted upon your dining with me. Then you told me, when you found that I would take no other course whatever, that you were no other than the--the----"--
"Out with it! I can bear to hear it now better than I could then! I told you that I was the common hangman of London!"
"You did, I must confess, to my most intense surprise."
"Yes, and yet you kept to me; and, but that I respected you too much to allow you to do so, you would, from old associations, have countenanced me; but I could not, and I would not, let you do so. I told you then that, although I held the terrible office, that I had not been yet called upon to perform its loathsome functions. Soon--soon--come the first effort--it was the last!"
"Indeed! You left the dreadful trade?"
"I did--I did. But what I want to tell you, for I could not then, was why I went ever to it. The wounds my heart had received were then too fresh to allow me to speak of them, but I will tell you now. The story is a brief one, Mr. Chillingworth. I pray you be seated."
CHAPTER LXXII.
THE STRANGE STORY.--THE ARRIVAL OF THE MOB AT THE HALL, AND THEIR DISPERSION.
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"You will find that the time which elapsed since I last saw you in London, to have been spent in an eventful, varied manner."--"You were in good circumstances then," said Mr. Chillingworth.--"I was, but many events happened after that which altered the prospect; made it even more gloomy than you can well imagine: but I will tell you all candidly, and you can keep watch upon Bannerworth Hall at the same time. You are well aware that I was well to do, and had ample funds, and inclination to spend them."--"I recollect: but you were married then, surely?"--"I was," said the stranger, sadly, "I was married then."--"And now?"--"I am a widower." The stranger seemed much moved, but, after a moment or so, he resumed--"I am a widower now; but how that event came about is partly my purpose to tell you. I had not married long--that is very long--for I have but one child, and she is not old, or of an age to know much more than what she may be taught; she is still in the course of education. I was early addicted to gamble; the dice had its charms, as all those who have ever engaged in play but too well know; it is perfectly fascinating."--"So I have heard," said Mr. Chillingworth; "though, for myself, I found a wife and professional pursuits quite incompatible with any pleasure that took either time or resources."--