"Perfectly," returned Filippo: "I will not ask another question, nor hesitate another moment."
"My everlasting gratitude is your due," said Ellen. "And now, one more favour have I to ask."
"Name it," answered the Italian.
"Give me one of your pistols."
"But, Miss Monroe—"
"Pray do not refuse me! I am not a coward; and I must inform you that I learnt to fire a pistol at the theatre."
The Italian handed the young lady one of his loaded weapons.
She concealed it beneath the breast of her coat; and her heart palpitated with pride and satisfaction.
Ellen and the Italian then quickened their pace, and proceeded rapidly towards Globe Town.
CHAPTER CV.
THE COMBAT.
IN spite of the suspicions entertained by Mr. Monroe and Ellen concerning the genuineness of the appointment for which Markham was engaged, the young man was too devotedly attached to the memory of his brother not to indulge in the most wild and sanguine hopes.
Thus, as he proceeded to the place of meeting near Twig Folly, he communed with himself in the following manner:—
"If my brother be involved in pecuniary difficulties—or if he have committed any imprudence, from the results of which money may release him—how gladly will I dispose of the remainder of my small income—how joyfully will I devote all I possess to aid him! And then, when I have no other resources, I will open the mysterious document which Thomas Armstrong placed in my hands ere he breathed his last; and I feel convinced that I shall at least receive therefrom good advice—if not pecuniary succour—to guide me in future. O Eugene! is it possible that I am now about to meet you once more? On the 10th of July, 1831, did we part on the summit of the hill which overlooks the mansion of our ancestors. This is the 2d of January, 1840. Eight years and a half have now elapsed since the day of our separation. Ah! I know the proud—the haughty—the independent disposition of my brother! Were he prosperous—were he successful in his pursuits, (be those pursuits what they may,) he would not seek me now. He would wait until the accomplishment of the twelve years: he would not seek me until the 10th of July, 1843. Then should we compare notes, and ascertain who was the more prosperous! Yes—this would be my brother's mode of conduct. And therefore he is unhappy—he is unfortunate, that he seeks me ere the time be elapsed: he is perhaps poor—in want—who knows? Oh! how sincerely I hope that this is no delusion; that my unfortunate star will not pursue me even unto the point of so terrible a disappointment! No—I feel that this is no deception—that Eugene indeed awaits me. Who could wish to injure me? who would desire to take my life? who could hope to obtain a treasure by laying a plot to rob me? The idea is preposterous! Yes—the appointment is a genuine one: I am about to meet my brother Eugene!"
Such were the meditations of Richard Markham as he proceeded towards the place of appointment. He was considerably before his time; for hope cannot brook delay.
When he reached the banks of the canal, he was struck by the lonely and deserted nature of the spot. The sward was damp and marshy with the late heavy rains: the canal was swollen, and rolled, muddy and dark, between its banks, the pale and sickly moon vainly wooing its bosom to respond to the caresses of its beams by a reflective kiss.
The bank on which Markham now walked backwards and forwards, and which constituted the verge of the region of Globe Town, was higher than the opposite one; and the canal, swollen by the rains, had deluged many parts of that latter shore.
In the place where Markham now found himself, several ditches and sluices had been cut; and these, added to the uneven and swampy nature of the soil, rendered his ramble in that quarter not only unpleasant, but even dangerous.
Nevertheless, Markham continued to pace backwards and forwards on the bank where he expected to meet one who was so dear to him.
He had been at his post about half an hour when footsteps suddenly fell upon his ears.
He stopped, and listened.
The steps approached; and in a few moments he beheld, through the obscurity of the night, a person advancing towards him.
"True to your appointment, sir," said the individual, when he came up to the spot where Richard was standing.
"I told you that I should not fail," answered Markham, who had immediately recognised the voice of the man that had borne him the message making the present appointment. "But what of my brother? will he come? is he near? Speak!"
"He will be here in a few moments," said the man, who, as our readers well know, was none other than the Buffer.
"Are you sure?" demanded Markham. "Why has he sent you first? could he suspect treachery from his own brother?"
"Not a bit of it," replied the Buffer. "Only—but here he comes, sure enow."
Approaching footsteps were heard; and in a minute or two another form emerged from the gloom of night.
Markham's heart palpitated violently.
"Here is your brother, sir," said the Buffer.
"Eugene—dear Eugene!" cried Richard, springing forward to catch his brother in his arms.
"Brother indeed!" muttered the ominous voice of the Resurrection Man; and at the same moment Richard was pinioned from behind by the Buffer, who skilfully wove a cord around his arms, and fastened his elbows together.
"Villains!" ejaculated Richard, struggling with all his might—but vainly, for the Resurrection Man, whose voice he had immediately recognised but too well, threw him violently upon the damp sod.
"Now, my lad," cried the Resurrection Man, "your fate is decided. In a few minutes you'll be at the bottom of the canal, and then—"
He said no more—for at that moment another person appeared upon the scene; and, quick as thought, the Resurrection Man was felled by the butt end of a pistol.
But the instant the miscreant touched the ground, he caught a desperate hold of the person who had so suddenly and unexpectedly appeared upon the spot; and Filippo—for it was he—also rolled on the damp sward.
The Resurrection Man leapt upon him, and caught hold of his throat with such savage violence, that the Italian would have been suffocated in a few moments, had not the flash of a pistol close by the head of the Resurrection Man turned the fortune of the combat.
The pistol so aimed only flashed in the pan; but the sudden glare singed the Resurrection Man's hair, and caused him to abandon his victim and spring upon his feet with an alacrity that resembled a galvanic effect.
The Buffer, alarmed by the first attack on the part of Filippo, had relinquished his hold of the rope that confined Richard's arms; and Markham, encouraged by this sudden and unexpected assistance, disengaged himself from the coil with the rapidity of lightning. He then sprang upon the Buffer, hurled him to the ground, and, placing his knee upon the ruffian's chest, kept him fast in that prostrate condition on the very verge of