n't breathe if I don't. And there ain't any place to go to.
I was feelin' a good deal cooped up to-night, and then I thought o' your
place here." He moved his hand toward the dark recesses. "It's kind o'
clean and high."

They sat in silence, the girl's head resting on her hand.

Uncle William watched her face in the half-light. "You're gettin' tired
and kind o' peaked."

She looked up. "I am resting."

"Yes--yes, I know how it is. You stan' all you can and byme-by you come
to a place you can rest in, and you jest rest--hard."

"Yes."

"You ought to 'a' asked somebody to help ye," said Uncle William,
gently.

"There wasn't any one."

"There was me."

"Yes. I _did_ ask you when I couldn't go on."

"That wa'n't the way. Somebody would 'a' helped--your folks, like
enough--" He stopped, remembering.

"They are dead."

He nodded. "I know. He told me. But I'd forgot--for a minute. They been
dead long?"

"Two years. It was before I came away--at home, in Russia. We were all
coming--father and mother and I, and my brother. Then they died; but I
wanted to be free." She had flung out her arms with a light movement.

"It's a dretful good place to get away from," said Uncle William. "Nice
folks come from there, too. I never saw one that wa'n't glad to come,"
he added.

She smiled. "I was glad; and I am glad I came here. It has been hard--a
little--but I found Alan." Her voice sang.

"Some folks would say that was the wust of it," said Uncle William. "You
found him and he fell sick, and you had him to take care on--cross as
two sticks some of the time." He regarded her mildly.

"_You_ don't think so," she said.

"Well, mebbe not, mebbe not," responded Uncle William. "I'm sort o'
queer, perhaps."

She had turned to him half wistfully. "Don't you think I might see
him--just a little while?"

Uncle William shook his head. "You've been too good to him. That's the
wust of wimmen folks. What he needs now is a tonic--suthin' kind o'
bitter." He chuckled. "He's got me."

She smiled. "When are you going to take him away?"

"To-morrow."

She started. "It is very soon," she said softly.

"Sooner the better," said Uncle William. "It'll do us both good to
smell the sea." He pulled out the great watch. "Must be 'most time to be
startin'." He peered at it uncertainly.

"Yes, we must go." She rose and brought her hat, a fragile thing of lace
and mist, and a little lace mantle with long floating ends. She put them