Part 35 (2/2)

_d.i.c.k._ That be all we wants. One must look to the nag and cart, and that one must be you. Gie's your hand on it. [_They shake hands._

_Bill._ But I say, d.i.c.k, does Nelly know the business in hand?

_d.i.c.k._ Not yet.

_Bill._ I've an idea she won't allow it. I heard her talk summit about conscience--or the like of it.

_d.i.c.k._ Talk about fiddlesticks. Show her the pewter and she'll snap her fingers. Here she comes. I'll let her into the gammon.

_Enter Nelly._

_Nelly._ Well, lads; what's in the wind?

_d.i.c.k._ Summit worth sneezing at, Nell. We are up to a rig to-night. Got a bit of a frolic for pewter.

_Nelly._ Aye, boys, where?

_d.i.c.k._ At the Hall here.

_Nelly._ It won't do.

_d.i.c.k._ Yes, but it will though.

_Nelly._ Yes it will do for you (_pointing to her neck_). I know the Hall well. It must not be thought of.

_d.i.c.k._ But we _have_ thought on it, and _will_ think on it. We be all determined, so there be an end of the matter, and an end of your palaver.

_Nelly._ I say no!

_d.i.c.k._ None o' your gammon--pewter arn't to be picked up in the highways. The thing be settled.

_Nelly._ Think no more on it.

_d.i.c.k._ You mind your own business, missus. Go and tell fortunes to fools and women; leave men alone.

_Nelly._ I can tell your fortune. A dance in the air till you are out of breath.

_d.i.c.k._ Didn't require a wise woman to find out that. (_Aside._) But we must keep our eyes upon her--she's queer. (_Aloud._) Come Bill. [_Exeunt Bill and d.i.c.k._

_Nelly sola._

Am I so fallen, never to recover? Must I sink deeper and deeper with these villains? Since I joined them they have never yet attempted anything like this. Petty theft, to support existence, I have partic.i.p.ated in, but nothing more. Can I retreat? Ah, when I look upon these hills, and remember the time when I roved here, careless, innocent, and happy, how often do I wish that I could retrace my steps!

Yonder is the church where I used to pray. How long is it now since I have dared perform that sacred duty? Yet, how often, since I have returned to this spot, have I longed to fall upon my knees! But I am an outcast. Pride and vanity have made me so, and pride has reduced me so to remain, although I loathe myself, and those connected with me. This intention of theirs has, however, resolved me. The deed shall not take place. I will, by some means, warn them at the Hall--a letter, but how to get it there? It shall be done, and done directly. They can but murder me if I am discovered, and what is my life now?--a burden to myself. [_Exit._

_Scene II._

<script>