Keep the pound; but tell me that
you won't mention my having asked you to carry a letter to Elverston to
anyone.'
For the first time Tom looked perfectly serious. He twiddled the corner of
my letter between his finger and thumb, and wore very much the countenance
of a poacher about to be committed.
'I don't want to chouce ye, Miss; but I must take care o' myself, ye see.
The letters goes all through Silas's fingers to the post, and he'd know
damn well this worn't among 'em. They do say he opens 'em, and reads 'em
before they go; an' that's his diversion. I don't know; but I do believe
that's how it be; an' if this one turned up, they'd all know it went be
hand, and I'd be spotted for't.'
'But you know who I am, Tom, and I'd save you,' said I, eagerly.
'Ye'd want savin' yerself, I'm thinkin', if that feel oot,' said Tom,
cynically. 'I don't say, though, I'll not take it--only this--I won't run
my head again a wall for no one.'
'Tom,' I said, with a sudden inspiration, 'give me back the letter,
and take me out of Bartram; take me to Elverston; it will be the best
thing--for _you_, Tom, I mean--it will indeed--that ever befell you.
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