"Think not of me, Lucy; think not of me, Charles," said Mrs. Effingham. "You know what I can bear, and how I can bear it. If you think it your duty to go with him--and, perhaps, notwithstanding all dictates of worldly prudence, I may think so, too--act as you would act if I were not in existence; let me not in the least impede you. I shall do quite well; and he certainly needs you with him, more than I do; for I do believe, Lucy, that to a noble and an uncorrupted heart, the love and society of a pure and virtuous woman, is not only a consolation under all circumstances, but a safeguard and a support." Everard Morrison had, in the meanwhile, remained silent, but now, though he understood and made every allowance for the natural hesitation of Lucy under such circumstances, he felt that precious moments must not be lost for slight causes, and taking a step forward, he said, "Dear Miss Effingham, you are decided to go. I have said nothing hitherto in opposition to Tyrrell's scheme, for where you are willing to risk so much, who shall talk of any other hazards? Let me, however, now remind you, that every moment is precious. The tide serves just one hour before daylight, the cutter will be off the point at that hour, a very short time, therefore, remains for your preparation; and even during that time, Sir Charles ought to leave you; for though we have taken every precaution to prevent them from tracing us hitherto, and to mislead them in regard to the course we have taken, yet there is that natural connexion between this place and our escaped prisoner, that suspicion will instantly look in this direction. Should any search of the house be made while he is still here, no possible means of escape would be left. He must, therefore, go on alone, leaving me to conduct you to the spot where we shall find him." It very often happens in life, that our decisions are made for us, by other persons, taking it for granted that we have made them. Such, however, was not exactly the case in the present instance; for Lucy had determined already to go, and all that Everard Morrison said, only tended to hasten her arrangements for that purpose: If any shade of indecision was left, it was only expressed by her gazing alternately at Charles Tyrrell and at her mother, while the young lawyer was speaking. When he had done, however, she put her hand in that of Charles Tyrrell, saying, "I will go with you, Charles. Now go on as fast as possible. I will lose no time, and will join you as speedily as I can. I may be agitated, Charles, I may be terrified, but I have no earthly doubt that I am doing right, and therefore I will not fear. Do not stay here longer, Mr. Morrison is quite right. They may seek you, and what a terrible thing it would be if they were to find you here. Every sound that I hear makes me tremble. In a very few hours I will be with you--God bless you, Charles, God bless you. Go, and leave me for the present."