matter to preserve the innocent deceit of

which they were profoundly unsuspicious. But, an affectionate

glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him resolute not to tell

her what impended (he had been half moved to do it, so strange it

was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid), and the day

passed quickly. Early in the evening he embraced her, and her

scarcely less dear namesake, pretending that he would return by-

and-by (an imaginary engagement took him out, and he had

secreted a valise of clothes ready), and so he emerged into the

heavy mist of the heavy streets, with a heavier heart.

The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all

the tides and winds were setting straight and strong towards it. He

left his two letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour

before midnight, and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began

his journey. ‘For the love of Heaven, of justice, of generosity, of the

honour of your noble name!’ was the poor prisoner’s cry with

which he strengthened his sinking heart, as he left all that was

dear on earth behind him, and floated away for the Loadstone

Rock.

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

BOOK THE

THIRD

THE TRACK OF A

STORM

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics