Mary was very nervous, and exceedingly anxious to get home before it grew much darker. This probably gave her an appearance of solicitude, which the Jew attributed to destitution. “These things ish very sheap,” he at length said,—“dog-sheap: people don’t want ’em. I can’t offer you more than ten shillings, and shall lose on that.” The young gentleman had been an attentive spectator of this scene. He fathomed the cunning of the Jew, and, advancing to the counter, took the chain in his hands. “Come, Solomon, this is too bad! You should offer three times as much, and you would make a good bargain then. You know, as well as I do, that that chain never cost less than two guineas. Come, come! be honest for once.” “It ish all very well,” said Solomon, who did not relish the interruption, “vor young shentleman to talk; but if young shentleman should keep a pawnbroker’s shop, he would change his mind.” “Perhaps so; but I will wait till I am a pawnbroker first. But, Solomon, if you don’t offer more, I’ll take it myself.” The Jew, who was afraid of losing a good bargain, and internally cursing the interference of the young gentleman, began to mumble that it was very hard to press a poor man so,—that he should certainly lose on it. However, he closed by offering fifteen shillings. Mrs. Elliott was about to close with this offer; but the other stepped forward, and said,— “No, no! this will never do. That chain cost two guineas at least. I am sure of it; for I bought one precisely similar the other day. Give it to me, madam,” said he, respectfully, to Mrs. Elliott, “and I will advance you that sum.” The artist’s wife accepted his proffer with grateful astonishment, and hastened to leave the shop. She had gone but a few steps, when she was overtaken by the chance companion whom she had met at the pawnbroker’s. “Do not think me bold,” said he, “if I suggest that it is hardly safe to carry money open in your hand; and, indeed, it is so dark, that it is hardly safe at all for a lady to pass through the streets unattended. If you will accept my escort, I shall be most happy to conduct you to your lodgings.” Mrs. Elliott hesitated. She knew it was scarcely safe to trust to an entire stranger; but the young man’s conduct thus far had so prepossessed her in his favor, that she did not refuse. “Sir,” she replied, after a moment’s hesitation, “I know not whether I am in the right; but I cannot help trusting you. I do not think you intend to impose upon me. I _will_ trust to you.” “You shall not regret your confidence,” said her companion. “May I ask where you reside?” “At 16, S⸺ Street,” was the reply of Mrs. Elliott. “I am much indebted to you, sir, no less for the trouble you are now taking than for the generosity with which you saved me from being imposed upon by the Jew.”