No, no; at heart I never doubted you."
"Ellen," said John, "hear me. You never will become my wife till my
disgrace is wiped away. I love you too well ever to see you blush for
your husband. My mind's made up--so say no more. Ay, an' I tell you that
to live three months in this state would break my heart."
"Poor John!" she exclaimed, as they separated, and the words were
followed by a gush of tears, "I know that there is not one of them, in
either of the factions, so noble in heart and thought as you are."
"Ill prove that soon, Ellen; but never till my name is fair and clear,
an' without spot, can you be my wife. Good night, dearest; in every
thing but that I'll be guided by you."
They then separated, and immediately the Dead Boxer, like a drunken man,
went tottering, rather crest-fallen, towards the inn. On reaching his
own room, his rage appeared quite ungovernable; he stormed, stamped, and
raved on reflecting that any one was able to knock him down. He called
for brandy and water, with a curse to the waiter, swore deeply between
every sip, and, ultimately dispatched another messenger for Nell
M'Collum.
"That Obeah woman's playing on me," he exclaimed; "because my face is
black, she thinks me a fool. Furies! I neither know what she is, nor who
the other is. But I will know."
"Don't be too sure of that," replied Nell, gliding into the
apartment--"You can say little, blackey, or think little, avourneen,
that I'll not know.
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