--it is no matter who. You had best begone, or he may find you here.
Why do you linger?'

'For warmth,' he replied, spreading out his hands before the fire. 'For
warmth. You are rich, perhaps?'

'Very,' she said faintly. 'Very rich. No doubt I am very rich.'

'At least you are not penniless. You have some money. You were making
purchases to-night.'

'I have a little left. It is but a few shillings.'

'Give me your purse. You had it in your hand at the door. Give it to
me.'

She stepped to the table and laid it down. He reached across, took it
up, and told the contents into his hand. As he was counting them, she
listened for a moment, and sprung towards him.

'Take what there is, take all, take more if more were there, but go
before it is too late. I have heard a wayward step without, I know full
well. It will return directly. Begone.'

'What do you mean?'

'Do not stop to ask. I will not answer. Much as I dread to touch you, I
would drag you to the door if I possessed the strength, rather than you
should lose an instant. Miserable wretch! fly from this place.'

'If there are spies without, I am safer here,' replied the man, standing
aghast. 'I will remain here, and will not fly till the danger is past.'

'It is too late!' cried the widow, who had listened for the step, and
not to him. 'Hark to that foot upon the ground. Do you tremble to hear
it! It is my son, my idiot son!'

As she said this wildly, there came a heavy knocking at the door. He
looked at her, and she at him.

'Let him come in,' said the man, hoarsely. 'I fear him less than the
dark, houseless night. He knocks again. Let him come in!'

'The dread of this hour,' returned the widow, 'has been upon me all my
life, and I will not. Evil will fall upon him, if you stand eye to eye.
My blighted boy! Oh! all good angels who know the truth--hear a poor
mother's prayer, and spare my boy from knowledge of this man!'

'He rattles at the shutters!' cried the man. 'He calls you. That voice
and cry! It was he who grappled with me in the road. Was it he?'

She had sunk upon her knees, and so knelt down, moving her lips, but
uttering no sound. As he gazed upon her, uncertain what to do or where
to turn, the shutters flew open. He had barely time to catch a knife
from the table, sheathe it in the loose sleeve of his coat, hide in the
closet, and do all with the lightning's speed, when Barnaby tapped at
the bare glass, and raised the sash exultingly.

'