She had covered her face with her hands, fearing, as it seemed, to look
towards him. So they remained for some short time in silence. Glancing
round again, he asked at length:
'Is this your house?'
'It is. Why, in the name of Heaven, do you darken it?'
'Give me meat and drink,' he answered sullenly, 'or I dare do more than
that. The very marrow in my bones is cold, with wet and hunger. I must
have warmth and food, and I will have them here.'
'You were the robber on the Chigwell road.'
'I was.'
'And nearly a murderer then.'
'The will was not wanting. There was one came upon me and raised the
hue-and-cry', that it would have gone hard with, but for his nimbleness.
I made a thrust at him.'
'You thrust your sword at HIM!' cried the widow, looking upwards. 'You
hear this man! you hear and saw!'
He looked at her, as, with her head thrown back, and her hands tight
clenched together, she uttered these words in an agony of appeal. Then,
starting to his feet as she had done, he advanced towards her.
'Beware!' she cried in a suppressed voice, whose firmness stopped him
midway. 'Do not so much as touch me with a finger, or you are lost; body
and soul, you are lost.
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