Her country breeding had made her shy of
strangers, and this Susan Palmer appeared to her like a real born lady by
all accounts. So she knocked with a timid feeling at the indicated door,
and when it was opened, dropped a simple curtsey without speaking. Susan
had her little niece in her arms, curled up with fond endearment against
her breast, but she put her gently down to the ground, and instantly
placed a chair in the best corner of the room for Mrs. Leigh, when she
told her who she was. "It's not Will as has asked me to come," said the
mother, apologetically; "I'd a wish just to speak to you myself!"

Susan coloured up to her temples, and stooped to pick up the little
toddling girl. In a minute or two Mrs. Leigh began again.

"Will thinks you would na respect us if you knew all; but I think you
could na help feeling for us in the sorrow God has put upon us; so I just
put on my bonnet, and came off unknownst to the lads. Every one says
you're very good, and that the Lord has keeped you from falling from His
ways; but maybe you've never yet been tried and tempted as some is. I'm
perhaps speaking too plain, but my heart's welly broken, and I can't be
choice in my words as them who are happy can. Well now! I'll tell you
the truth. Will dreads you to hear it, but I'll just tell it you. You
mun know--" but here the poor woman's words failed her, and she could do
nothing but sit rocking herself backwards and forwards, with sad eyes,
straight-gazing into Susan's face, as if they tried to tell the tale of
agony which the quivering lips refused to utter. Those wretched, stony
eyes forced the tears down Susan's cheeks, and, as if this sympathy gave
the mother strength, she went on in a low voice--"I had a daughter once,
my heart's darling. Her father thought I made too much on her, and that
she'd grow marred staying at home; so he said she mun go among strangers
and learn to rough it. She were young, and liked the thought of seeing a
bit of the world; and her father heard on a place in Manchester. Well!
I'll not weary you. That poor girl were led astray; and first thing we
heard on it, was when a letter of her father's was sent back by her
missus, saying she'd left her place, or, to speak right, the master had
turned her into the street soon as he had heard of her condition--and she
not seventeen!"

She now cried aloud; and Susan wept too. The little child looked up into
their faces, and, catching their sorr