In this hour of agony and suspense, Honoria Eversleigh
looked to the queer, wizened little police-officer, Andrew Larkspur, as
the best friend she had on earth.
"You'll find my child for me?" she cried many times during the course
of that long journey, appealing to Mr. Larkspur, with clasped hands and
streaming eyes. "Oh, tell me that you'll find her for me. For pity's
sake, give me some comfort--some hope."
"I'll give you plenty of comfort, and plenty of hope, too, mum, if
you'll only cheer up and trust in me," answered the luminary of Bow
Street, with that stolid calmness of manner which seemed as if it would
scarcely have been disturbed by an earthquake. "You keep up your
spirits, and don't give way. If the little lady is alive, I'll bring
her back to you safe and sound. If--if--so be as she's--contrarywise,"
added Mr. Larkspur, alarmed by the wild look in his companion's eyes,
as he was about to pronounce the terrible word she so much feared to
hear, "why, in that case I'll find them as have done the deed, and they
shall pay for it."
"Oh, give her back to me!" exclaimed Honoria; "give her back! Let me
hold her in my arms once more. I abandon all thought of revenge upon
those who have so basely wronged me. Let Providence alone deal with
them and their crime. It may be this punishment has come to me, because
I have sought to usurp the office of Providence.
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