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I'll be back in an hour,--or so," he added in a lower tone. And before the gentle Mrs Jones could collect her scattered wits sufficiently to understand half of the hastily formed plan, her son was scudding down the street, closely followed by Mary's half-running steps. Presently he slackened his pace sufficiently to enable him to enter into conversation with Mary, for once escaped from the reach of his mother's recalling voice, he thought he might venture to indulge his curiosity. "Ahem!--What's your name? It's so awkward to be calling you young woman.'" "My name is Mary,--Mary Barton," answered she, anxious to propitiate one who seemed so willing to exert himself in her behalf, or else she grudged every word which caused the slightest relaxation in her speed, although her chest seemed tightened, and her head throbbing, from the rate at which they were walking. "And you want Will Wilson to prove an alibi --is that it?" "Yes--oh, yes--can we not cross now?" "No, wait a minute; it's the teagle hoisting above your bead I'm afraid of;--and who is it that's to be tried?" "Jem; oh, lad! can't we get past?" They rushed under the great ales quivering in the air above their heads and pressed onwards for a few minutes, till Master Charley saw fit to walk a little slower, and ask a few more questions. "Mary, is Jem your brother, or your sweetheart, that you're so set upon saving him?" "No--no," replied she, but with something of hesitation, that made the shrewd boy yet more anxious to clear up the mystery. "Perhaps he's your cousin, then? Many a girl has a cousin who has not a sweetheart." "No, he's neither kith nor kin to me. What's the matter? What are you stopping for?" said she, with nervous terror, as Charley turned back a few steps, and peered up a side street. "Oh, nothing to flurry you so, Mary. I heard you say to mother you had never been in Liverpool before, and if you'll only look up this street you may see the back windows of our Exchange. Such a building as yon is! with 'natomy hiding under a blanket, and Lord Admiral Nelson, and a few more people in the middle of the court I No I come here, as Mary, in her eagerness, was looking at any window that caught her eye first, to satisfy the boy. "Here then, now, you can see it. You can say, now, you've seen Liverpool Exchange." "Yes, to be sure--it's a beautiful window, I'm sure. But are we near the boats? I'll stop as I come back, you know; only I think we'd better get on now. "Oh! if the wind's in your favour you'll be down the river in no time, and catch Will, I'll be bound; and if it's not, why, you know the minute it took you to look at the Exchange will be neither here nor there. Another rush onwards, till one of the long crossings near the Docks caused a stoppage, and gave Mary time for breathing, and Charley leisure to ask another question. "You've never said where you come from?" "Manchester," replied she. "Eh, then! you've a power of things to see. Liverpool beats Manchester hollow, they say. A nasty, smoky hole, bean't it? Are you bound to live there?" "Oh, yes! it's my home." "Well, I don't think I could abide a home in the middle of smoke. Look there! now you see the river! That's something now you'd give a good deal for in Manchester. Look!" And Mary did look, and saw down an opening made in the forest of masts belonging to the vessels in dock, the glorious river, along which white-sailed ships were gliding with the ensigns of all nations, not "braving the battle," but telling of the distant lands, spicy or frozen, that sent to that mighty mart for their comforts or their luxuries; she saw small boats passing to and fro on that glittering highway, but she also saw such puffs and clouds of smoke from the countless steamers that she wondered at Charley's intolerance of the smoke of Manchester. Across the swing-bridge, along the pier,--and they stood breathless by a magnificent dock, where hundreds of ships lay motionless during the process of loading and unloading. The cries of the sailors, the variety of languages used by the passers-by, and the entire novelty of the sight compared with anything which Mary had ever seen, made her feel most helpless and forlorn; and she clung to her young guide as to one who alone by his superior knowledge could interpret between her and the new race of men by whom she was surrounded,--for a new race sailors might reasonably be considered, to a girl who had hitherto seen none but inland dwellers, and those for the greater part factory people. In that new world of sight and sound, she still bore one prevailing thought, and though her eye glanced over the ships and the wide-spreading river, her mind was full of the thought of reaching Will. "Why are we here?" asked she, of Charley. "There are no little boats about, and I thought I was to go in a little boat; those ships are not meant for short distances, are they?" "To be sure not," replied he, rather contemptuously. But the John Cropper lay in this dock, and I know many of the sailors; and if I could see one I knew, I'd ask him to run up the mast, and see if he could catch a sight of her in the offing. If she's weighed her anchor, no use for your going, you know." Mary assented quietly to this speech, as if she were as careless as Charley seemed now to be about her overtaking Will; but in truth her heart was sinking within her, and she no longer felt the energy which had hitherto upheld her. Her bodily strength was giving way, and she stood cold and shivering, although the noon-day sun beat down with considerable power on the shadeless spot where she was standing. "Here's Tom Bourne!" said Charley, and altering his manner from the patronising key in which he had spoken to Mary, he addressed a weather-beaten old sailor who came rolling along the pathway where they stood, his hands in his pockets, and his quid in his mouth, with very much the air of one who had nothing to do but look about him, and spit right and left; addressing this old tar, Charley made known to him his wish in slang, which to Mary was almost inaudible, and quite unintelligible, and which I am too much of a land-lubber to repeat correctly. Mary watched looks and actions with a renovated keenness of perception. She saw the old man listen attentively to Charley; she saw him eye her over from head to foot, and wind up his inspection with a little nod of approbation (for her very shabbiness and poverty of dress were creditable signs to the experienced old sailor), and then she watched him leisurely swing himself on to a ship in the basin, and, borrowing a glass, run up the mast with the speed of a monkey. "He'll fall!" said she, in affright; clutching at Charley's arm, and judging the sailor, from his storm-marked face and unsteady walk on land, to be much older than he really was. "Not he!" said Charley. "He's at the mast-head now. See! he's looking through his glass, and using his arms as steady as if he were on dry land. Why, I've been up the mast, many and many a time; only don't tell mother. She thinks I'm to be a shoemaker, but I've made up my mind to be a sailor; only there's no good arguing with a woman. You'll not tell her, Mary?" "Oh, see!" exclaimed she (his secret was very safe with her, for, in fact, she had not heard it); see! he's coming down; he's down. Speak to him, Charley. But, unable to wait another instant, she called out herself, "Can you see the John Cropper ? Is she there yet?" "Aye, aye," he answered, and coming quickly up to them, he hurried them away to seek for a boat, saying the bar was already covered, and in an hour the ship would hoist her sails, and be off. "You've the win right against you, and must use oars. No time to lose." They ran to some steps leading down to the water. They beckoned to some watermen, who, suspecting the real state of the case, appeared in no hurry for a fare, but leisurely brought their boat along the stairs, as if it were a matter of indifference to them whether they were engaged or not, while they conversed together in few words, and in an under tone, respecting the charge they should make. "Oh, pray make haste," called Mary. "I want you to take me to the John Cropper . Where is she, Charley? Tell them--I don't rightly know the words,--only make haste!" "In the offing she is, sure enough, miss," answered one of the men, shoving Charley on one side, regarding him as too young to be a principal in the bargain. "I don't think we can go, ****," said he, with a wink to his companion;