He then said, turning to me:
"Pack up your bag for traveling at once, and have a conveyance
got ready to go to the nearest post-town. Look sharp, young
man--look sharp!"
"And, whatever happens in the future," added my mistress, her
kind voice trembling a little, "believe, William, that I shall
never forget the proof you now show of your devotion to me. It is
still some comfort to know that I have your fidelity to depend on
in this dreadful trial--your fidelity and the extraordinary
intelligence and experience of Mr. Dark."
Mr. Dark did not seem to hear the compliment. He was busy
writing, with his paper upon the map on his knee.
A quarter of an hour later, when I had ordered the dog-cart, and
had got down into the hall with my bag packed, I found him there
waiting for me. He was sitting in the same chair which he had
occupied when he first arrived, and he had another jug of the old
ale on the table by his side.
"Got any fishing-rods in the house?" says he, when I put my bag
down in the hall.
"Yes," I replied, astonished at the question. "What do you want
with them?"
"Pack a couple in cases for traveling," says Mr. Dark, "with
lines, and hooks, and fly-books all complete. Have a drop of the
ale before you go--and don't stare, William, don't stare.
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