There was another individual, however, who deeply sympathized in all he felt, because she knew that for her sake it had been incurred; we allude to Ellen Neil.  Since the night of their last interview, she, too, had been scrupulously watched by her relations.  But what vigilance can surpass the ingenuity of love?  Although her former treacherous confidant had absconded, yet the incident of the Dead Boxer’s arrival had been the means of supplying her with a friend, into whose bosom she felt that she could pour out all the anxieties of her heart.  This was no other than the Dead Boxer’s wife; and there was this peculiarity in the interest which she took in Ellen’s distress, that it was only a return of sympathy which Ellen felt in the unhappy woman’s sufferings.  The conduct of her husband was indefensible; for while he treated her with shameful barbarity, it was evident that his bad passions and his judgment were at variance, with respect to the estimate which he formed of her character.  In her honesty he placed every confidence, and permitted her to manage his money and regulate his expenses; but this was merely because her frugality and economic habits gratified his parsimony, and fostered one of his strongest passions, which was avarice.  There was something about this amiable creature that won powerfully upon the affections of Ellen Neil; and in entrusting her with the secret of her love, she she felt assured that she had not misplaced it.  Their private conversations, therefore, were frequent, and their communications, unreserved on both sides, so far as woman can bestow confidence and friendship on the subject of her affections or her duty.  This intimacy did not long escape the prying eyes of Nell M’Collum, who soon took means to avail herself of it for purposes which will shortly become evident.

It was about the sixth evening after the day on which the Dead Boxer had published his challenge, that, having noticed Nell from a window as she passed the inn, he dispatched a waiter with a message that she should be sent up to him.  Previous to this the hag had been several times with his wife, on whom she laid serious injunctions never to disclose to her husband the relationship between them.  The woman had never done so, for in fact the acknowledgement of Nell, as her mother, would have been to, any female whose feelings had not been made callous by the world, a painful and distressing task.  Nell was the more anxious on this point, as she feared that such a disclosure would have frustrated her own designs.

“Well, granny,” said he, when Nell entered, “any word of the money?”

Nell cautiously shut the door, and stood immediately fronting him, her hand at some distance from her side, supported by her staff, and her gray glittering eyes fixed upon him with that malicious look which she never could banish from her countenance.

“The money will come,” she replied, “in good time.  I’ve a charm near ready that’ll get a clue to it.  I’m watchin’ him—­and I’m watched myself—­an’ Ellen’s watched.  He has hardly a house to put his head in; but nabockish! I’ll bring you an’ him together—­ay, dher manim, an’ I’ll make him give you the first blow; afther that, if you don’t give him one, it’s your own fau’t.”