"I'll be here tomorrow morn. I won't fail
Isaac. I'll see you again to-morrow morning, Jenny, but I must go to
Liverpool to-night. My heart draws me--I must go. Good-bye,
Jenny--good-bye, dear."
Jenny looked after the tall, stately figure.
"Well, this _is_ a rum go," she muttered. "And ef she don't hurry
she'll be late. The last train goes at eight o'clock--she'll lose it
ef she don't run."
But Bet did not lose the train.
CHAPTER XXX.
Isaac Dent did indeed feel himself a triumphant man. If such a nature
as his could possibly know anything of love, he had something which
he called by that name for the handsome girl whom he had deceived, and
whose happiness he had wrecked. His powers of loving, however, might
have been described as uncertain, dubious, and absolutely unworthy of
so high and sacred a name. But there was no doubt at all with regard
to his powers of revenge, or as to his cunning and double dealing.
It was the night before his wedding; and the prize--the choice, rich,
great prize of the bravest and most beautiful girl in the city--was
almost his.
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