Eliza looked, but looked in vain, and, perceiving the woman had soon carried her out of sight of the cottage, begged she would set her down, as she dare not go any farther.

The vile creature was absolutely incapable of replying, for her breath was nearly exhausted by the rapidity of the motion, and Eliza continued entreating her to stop, and struggled violently to elude her grasp.

At length, after a quarter of an hour’s exertion, the woman found herself incapable of proceeding, and stopped suddenly, sat down on a bank, keeping tight hold of Eliza’s arms, who cried dreadfully, and besought her to let her go.

“Let you go!” she replied; “what, after all the plague I’ve had to knap you?  No, no, you don’t catch me at that, I promise you; but be a good girl, and don’t cry, and then you may see Bob by and by, perhaps.”

“Oh, my sisters! my sisters!  Let me go to my sisters!” cried the child.

“I’ll find plenty of sisters for you in a few days,” said the vile creature; “but they won’t know you in them there fine clothes; so let’s pull them off in a minute, and then we’ll have another run after Bob.”

So saying, she stripped off the white frock, hat, and tippet.  The rest of the things shared the same fate, and Eliza was compelled to put on some old rags which the inhuman creature took out of a bag she carried under her petticoat; then, taking a bottle of liquid from the same place, she instantly began washing Eliza’s face with it, and, notwithstanding all her remonstrances, cut her beautiful hair close to her head.

Thus metamorphosed, it would have been impossible even for Mr. Darnley to have known his child, and they proceeded onward until her little legs would carry her no farther.  At this period they were overtaken by the Canterbury wagon, and for a mere trifle the driver consented to let them ride to London.  Eliza’s tears continued to flow, but she dared not utter a complaint, as her inhuman companion protested she would break every bone in her skin if she ventured to make the least noise.

When they arrived in town, she was dragged (for to walk she was unable) to a miserable hole down several steps, where they gave her some bread and butter to eat, and then desired her to go to bed.

The bed, if such it might be called, was little else than a bundle of rags thrown into a corner of the room, with a dirty blanket spread across it; and there she was left by her inhuman kidnapper to mourn her misfortunes and lament having disregarded her fathers’ injunctions.

The next morning she was forced to rise the moment it was light, and to walk as far as her little legs would carry her before they stopped anywhere to take refreshment.  The second night was passed in a barn, and about five o’clock the third afternoon they knocked at the door of a neat-looking cottage, where nine or ten children were sitting in a little room making lace.