 should make her way to London, which is likely - for where could she
lose herself so readily as in this vast city; and what would she wish to do, but
lose and hide herself, if she does not go home? -«
    »And she won't go home,« he interposed, shaking his head mournfully. »If she
had left of her own accord, she might; not as 't was, sir.«
    »If she should come here,« said I, »I believe there is one person, here,
more likely to discover her than any other in the world. Do you remember - hear
what I say, with fortitude - think of your great object! - do you remember
Martha?«
    »Of our town?«
    I needed no other answer than his face.
    »Do you know that she is in London?«
    »I have seen her in the streets,« he answered with a shiver.
    »But you don't know,« said I, »that Emily was charitable to her, with Ham's
help, long before she fled from home. Nor, that, when we met one night, and
spoke together in the room yonder, over the way, she listened at the door.«
    »Mas'r Davy!« he replied in astonishment. »That night when it snew so hard?«
    »That night. I have never seen her since. I went back, after parting from
you, to speak to her, but she was gone. I was unwilling to mention her to you
then, and I am now; but she is the person of whom I speak, and with whom I think
we should communicate. Do you understand?«
    »Too well, sir,« he replied. We had sunk our voices, almost to a whisper,
and continued to speak in that tone.
    »You say you have seen her. Do you think that you could find her? I could
only hope to do so by chance.«
    »I think, Mas'r Davy, I know wheer to look.«
    »It is dark. Being together, shall we go out now, and try to find her
to-night?«
    He assented, and prepared to accompany me. Without appearing to observe what
he was doing, I saw how carefully he adjusted the little room, put a candle
ready and the means of lighting it, arranged the bed, and finally took out of a
drawer one of her dresses (I remember to have seen her wear
