“Why,” said Houseman, counting on his fingers, and muttering “twenty--fifty--wine and the creature cheap abroad--humph! a hundred for living, and half as much for pleasure. Come, Aram, one hundred and fifty guineas per annum, English money, will do for a foreign life--you see I am easily satisfied.” “Be it so,” said Aram, “I will engage by one means or another to procure it. For this purpose I shall set out for London to-morrow; I will not lose a moment in seeing the necessary settlement made as we have specified. But meanwhile, you must engage to leave this neighbourhood, and if possible, cause your comrades to do the same, although you will not hesitate, for the sake of your own safety, immediately to separate from them.” “Now that we are on good terms,” replied Houseman, “I will not scruple to oblige you in these particulars. My comrades intend to quit the country before to-morrow; nay, half are already gone; by daybreak I myself will be some miles hence, and separated from each of them. Let us meet in London after the business is completed, and there conclude our last interview on earth.” “What will be your address?” “In Lambeth there is a narrow alley that leads to the water-side, called Peveril Lane. The last house to the right, towards the river, is my usual lodging; a safe resting-place at all times, and for all men.” “There then will I seek you. And now, Houseman, fare-you-well! As you remember your word to me, may life flow smooth for your child.” “Eugene Aram,” said Houseman, “there is about you something against which the fiercer devil within me would rise in vain. I have read that the tiger can be awed by the human eye, and you compel me into submission by a spell equally unaccountable. You are a singular man, and it seems to me a riddle, how we could ever have been thus connected; or how--but we will not rip up the past, it is an ugly sight, and the fire is just out. Those stories do not do for the dark. But to return;--were it only for the sake of my child, you might depend upon me now; better too an arrangement of this sort, than if I had a larger sum in hand which I might be tempted to fling away, and in looking for more, run my neck into a halter, and leave poor Jane upon charity. But come, it is almost dark again, and no doubt you wish to be stirring: stay, I will lead you back, and put you on the right track, lest you stumble on my friends.” “Is this cavern one of their haunts?” said Aram. “Sometimes: but they sleep the other side of the Devil’s Crag to-night. Nothing like a change of quarters for longevity--eh?” “And they easily spare you.” “Yes, if it be only on rare occasions, and on the plea of family business. Now then, your hand, as before. Jesu! how it rains--lightning too--I could look with less fear on a naked sword, than those red, forked, blinding flashes--Hark! thunder.”