Jews, vagabonds on the face of the earth,' said the
old man to himself. 'So you have arranged that it will be to-morrow--you
and the parson? I hope he understands that he can get nothing for his
pains?'

'I don't know what you are talking about,' said Gladys, and her mouth
grew very stern--her whole face during the last hour seemed to have
taken on the stamp and seal of age.

'And what hour have you arranged it for?'

'Eleven, I think--yes, eleven,' answered Gladys, and gave a quick,
sobbing breath, which the old man elected not to notice.

'Eleven?' He said it over slowly, and took a penny time-table from his
pocket, and studied it thoughtfully. 'We can get away from Boston at
one. It's the worst kind of place this to get at, and I don't know why
on earth your father should have chosen it'--'to die in,' he had almost
added; but he restrained these words. 'We can't get to Glasgow before
midnight, I think. I hope you won't object to travelling in the
night-time? I must do it. I can't be away any longer from business; it
must be attended to. I hope you can be ready?'

'I don't mind it at all,' answered Gladys in a still, quiet voice. Her
heart cried out against her unhappy destiny; but one so desolate, so
helpless and forlorn, may not choose. 'Yes, I shall be ready.'

'Well, see that you are. Punctuality is a virtue--one not commonly
found, I am told, in your sex. You will remember, then, Mary, that I am
a very poor man, struggling to get the necessaries of life. You have no
false and extravagant ideas of life, I hope? Your father, surely, has
taught you that it is a desperate struggle, in which men trample each
other remorselessly under foot. Heaven knows he has had experience of
it, so far as I can hear and see.'

'He never told me anything, Uncle Abel. We were happy always, he and I
together, because we loved each other. But I know that life is always
hard, and that the good suffer most,' said Gladys simply.

A strange and unwonted thrill touched the selfish heart of the old man
at these words, as they fell gravely from the young lips, formed in
their perfect sweetness for the happy curves of joy and hope.

'Well, well, if these are your views, you are less likely to be
disappointed,' he said, in gruff haste. 'Well, to go on. I am a poor
man, and I have a poor little home; I hope, when you come to share it,
you will be a help, and not altogether a burden on it?'

'I shall try. I can learn to work. I must le