That ring--'
'Which ring, sir?' Mark inquired, opening his eyes still wider.
'That ring she gave me when we parted, Mark. She bought it; bought it;
knowing I was poor and proud (Heaven help me! Proud!) and wanted money.'
'Who says so, sir?' asked Mark.
'I say so. I know it. I thought of it, my good fellow, hundreds of
times, while you were lying ill. And like a beast, I took it from her
hand, and wore it on my own, and never dreamed of this even at the
moment when I parted with it, when some faint glimmering of the truth
might surely have possessed me! But it's late,' said Martin, checking
himself, 'and you are weak and tired, I know. You only talk to cheer me
up. Good night! God bless you, Mark!'
'God bless you, sir! But I'm reg'larly defrauded,' thought Mr Tapley,
turning round with a happy face. 'It's a swindle. I never entered for
this sort of service. There'll be no credit in being jolly with HIM!'
The time wore on, and other steamboats coming from the point on which
their hopes were fixed, arrived to take in wood; but still no answer
to the letter. Rain, heat, foul slime, and noxious vapour, with all the
ills and filthy things they bred, prevailed.
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