two pounds a-week like Walter Gerard?"

"Bah!" said the husband.

"You said he had no family," continued his wife. "I thought he had a
daughter."

"But she is no burthen to him. The sister of Mr Trafford is the Superior
of the convent here, and she took Sybil when her mother died, and
brought her up."

"Oh! then she is a nun?"

"Not yet; but I dare say it will end in it."

"Well, I think I would even sooner starve," said his wife, "than my
children should be nuns."

At this moment there was a knocking at the door. Warner descended from
his loom and opened it.

"Lives Philip Warner here?" enquired a clear voice of peculiar
sweetness.

"My name is Warner."

"I come from Walter Gerard," continued the voice. "Your letter reached
him only last night. The girl at whose house your daughter left it has
quitted this week past Mr Trafford's factory."

"Pray enter."

And there entered SYBIL.

Book 2 Chapter 14

"Your wife is ill?" said Sybil.

"Very!" replied Warner's wife. "Our daughter has behaved infamously to
us. She has quitted us without saying by your leave or with your leave.
And her wages were almost the only thing left to us; for Philip is not
like Walter Gerard you see: he cannot earn two pounds a-week, though why
he cannot I never could understand."

"Hush, hush, wife!" said Warner. "I speak I apprehend to Gerard's
daughter?"

"Just so."

"Ah! this is good and kind; this is like old times, for Walter Gerard
was my friend, when I was not exactly as I am now."

"He tells me so: he sent a messenger to me last night to visit you this
morning. Your letter reached him only yesterday."

"Harriet was to give it to Caroline," said the wife. "That's the girl
who has done all the mischief and inveigled her away. And she has left
Trafford's works, has she? Then I will be bound she and Harriet are
keeping house together."

"You suffer?" said Sybil, moving to the bed-side of the woman; "give me
your hand," she added in a soft sweet tone. "'Tis hot."

"I feel very cold," said the woman. "Warner would have the window open,
till the rain came in."

"And you, I fear, are wet," said Warner, addressing Sybil, and
interrupting his wife.

"Very slightly. And you have no fire. Ah! I have brought some things for
you, but not fuel."

"If he would only ask the person down stairs," said his wife, "for a
block of coal; I tell him, neighbours could hardly refuse; but he never
will do anything; he says