In the morning, Alfred remembered this substantial vision, and determined to find out which of those two it was. "I shall know by her looks," said he; "she won't be able to meet my eye. Well, the first he saw was Mrs. Archbold. She met his eye full with a mild and pensive dignity. "Come, it is not you," thought Alfred. Presently he fell in with Hannah. She wore a serene, infantine face, the picture of unobtrusive modesty. Alfred was dumbfoundered. "It's not this one, either," said he. "But then, it must. Confound her impudence for looking so modest." However, he did not speak to her; he was looking out for a face that interested him far more: the weather-beaten countenance of Giles Brown. He saw him once or twice, but could not get him alone till the afternoon. He invited him into his room: and when he got him there, lost no time. "Just look me in the face, Brown," said he quietly. Brown looked him in the face.
Brown turned his head away. Alfred laughed. "No, no, none of your tricks, old fellow: look me in the face while you answer."
The man coloured. "I can't look a gentleman like you in the face, and tell him he is mad."
"I should think not. Well, now; what shall I give you to help me escape?"
"Hush! don't mention that, sir; it's as much as my place is worth even to listen to you."
"Well! then I must give you as much as your place is worth. Please to calculate that, and name the figure."
"My place! I wouldn't lose it for a hundred pounds."
"Exactly. Then I'll give you a hundred guineas."