He beckoned to Phoebe, and after considerable
hesitation she opened her window.
"Phoebe," said he, in tones of tender regret, admirably natural and
sweet, "I shall never offend you again; so forgive me this once. I have
given that girl up."
"Not you," said Phoebe, sullenly.
"Indeed I have. After our quarrel, I started to propose to her; but I
had not the heart; I came back and left her."
"Time will show. If it is not her, it will be some other, you false,
heartless villain."
"Come, I say, don't be so hard on me in trouble. I am going to prison."
"So I suppose."
"Ah! but it is worse than you think. I am only taken for a paltry thirty
pounds or so."
"Thirty-three, fifteen, five," suggested Cartwright, in a muffled
whisper, his mouth being full of biscuit.
"But once they get me to a sponging-house, detainers will pour in, and
my cruel creditors will confine me for life."
"It is the best place for you. It will put a stop to your wickedness,
and I shall be at peace. That's what I have never known, night or day,
this three years."
"But you will not be happy if you see me go to prison before your eyes.
Were you ever inside a prison? Just think what it must be to be cooped
up in those cold grim cells all alone; for they use a debtor like a
criminal now.
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