, written on thoroughly good paper--in fact, I'd get
some for the purpose--and take pains with your writing, so as to let him
see that you are a lady. I should tell him that a sudden demand has
been made upon you for fifty pounds--yes, I'd make it fifty pounds,
anything under looks so paltry, and as if you were a common
begging-letter writer. I don't know but what I'd make it a hundred
while I was about it. The extra money would be so useful, my dear; you
could buy yourself a few dresses with it and make yourself more
attractive. You would be sure to win Mr Canninge, I feel certain. The
very fact of your showing him that you look upon him almost as a friend
would be sufficient to make, as it were, a link between you. Ah! my
dear, if young people would only think a little more of their advantages
they would be far more successful in life."

Here Mrs Thorne yawned very audibly, and looked at Hazel, who was still
bending down, hearing everything, and struggling at the same time to see
her way out of the difficulty before them, and to keep back the feelings
of misery and degradation aroused by her mother's words.

"She has actually gone to sleep!" said Mrs Thorne, who seemed quite to
have forgotten the terrors of the past few hours. "Ah, these young
people--these young people! Heigh-ho!--has--have--Dear me, how sleepy I
am! I think I'll go to bed."

She glanced at Hazel, and hesitated for a moment, as if about to touch
her, but directly after she left the room, saying--

"I won't wake her. Poor girl! she works very hard, and must be terribly
tired."

As Mrs Thorne closed the door and went into the adjoining room, Hazel
rose from her crouching attitude, her faced lined with care-marks, and a
hopeless aspect of misery in her heavy eyes.

Hazel stood gazing at the door, listening to every sound from the little
adjoining room, till she heard her mother sigh and throw herself upon
the bed, when she said in a low voice, "God help me!" and knelt down to
pray.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

PAYING THE PIPER.

"You must ask Mr Canninge, Hazel, or else Mr Burge or Mr Lambent,"
said Mrs Thorne dictatorially. "Either you must ask one of those
gentlemen, or I shall certainly feel that it is my duty to leave Plumton
and seek a refuge at the home of one of my relatives."

"Mother," said Hazel decidedly, "I cannot ask one of those gentlemen.
Can you not see that it would be a degradation that I could not bear?"

"If y