From
Thompson and his temptation, Stephen's thoughts went swiftly to little
Nan, and how he had heard her calling to him upon that dreadful night
when he went away with the poachers. Was it possible that he could
forget her for a single day? Was she not still one of his most constant
and most painful thoughts? Yes, he could remember every pretty look of
her face, and every sweet sound of her voice; yet they were saying he
had forgotten her, while the pit was there for him to pass night and
morning--a sorrowful reminder of her dreadful death! A sharp thrill ran
through Stephen's frame as his outstretched hand caught one of the iron
railings, which rattled in its socket; but his very heart stood still
when up from the dark, narrow depths there came a low and stifled cry of
'Stephen! Stephen!'
He was no coward, though Black Thompson had called him one; but this
voice from the dreaded pit, at that dark and lonely hour, made him
tremble so greatly that he could neither move nor shout aloud for very
fear. He leaned there, holding fast by the railing, with his hearing
made wonderfully acute, and his eyes staring blindly into the dense
blackness beneath him.
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