sk me to trust you no
more, until she tries to do it.' Something like that, in his anger and
vexation."

"Ah!" said the gentleman. "Well?"

"Well, sir, he went to her, and kneeled to her; said it was so; said it
ever had been so; and made a prayer to her to save him."

"And she?--Don't distress yourself, Mrs. Tugby."

"She came to me that night to ask me about living here. 'What he was
once to me,' she said, 'is buried in a grave, side by side with what I
was to him. But I have thought of this; and I will make the trial. In
the hope of saving him; for the love of the light-hearted girl (you
remember her) who was to have been married on a New Year's Day; and for
the love of her Richard.' And he said he had come to her from Lilian,
and Lilian had trusted to him, and she never could forget that. So they
were married; and when they came home here, and I saw them, I hoped that
such prophecies as parted them when they were young, may not often
fulfill themselves as they did in this case, or I wouldn't be the
makers of them for a Mine of Gold."

The gentleman got off the cask, and stretched himself, observing:

"I suppose he used her ill, as soon as they were married?"

"I don't think he ever did that," said Mrs. Tugby, shaking her head and
wiping her eyes. "He went on better for a short time; but, his habits
were too old and strong to be got rid of; he soon fell back a little;
and was falling fast back, when his illness came so strong upon him. I
think he has always felt for her. I am sure he has. I've seen him in his
crying fits and tremblings, try to kiss her hand; and I have heard him
call her 'Meg,' and say it was her nineteenth birthday. There he has
been lying, now, these weeks and months. Between him and her baby, she
has not been able to do her old work; and by not being able to be
regular, she has lost it, even if she could have done it. How they have
lived, I hardly know!"

"_I_ know," muttered Mr. Tugby, looking at the till, and round the shop,
and at his wife; and rolling his head with immense intelligence.

He was interrupted by a cry--a sound of lamentation--from the upper
story of the house. The gentleman moved hurriedly to the door.

"My friend," he said, looking back, "you needn't discuss whether he
shall be removed or not. He has spared you that trouble, I believe."

Saying so, he ran up-stairs, followed by Mrs. Tugby; while Mr. Tugby
panted and grumbled after them at leisure: being rendered more