r, and has no friends, so she says. I--I'll see you in the
morning about her. Take her! take her in where she will be
comfortable, and I'll--"

"I'll pay you well for it," was what he was going to say, but Abby's
quiet look stopped the words on his lips. Why should he pay her for
taking care of a stranger, of whom he knew no more than she did; whom
he had never seen till this moment?--why, indeed! and she was as well
able to pay for the young woman's keep as he was to say the least. All
this De Arthenay saw, or fancied he saw, in Abby Rock's glance. He
turned away, muttering something about seeing them in the morning;
then, with an abrupt bow, which yet was not without grace, he strode
swiftly down the street and took his way home.

CHAPTER III.

ABBY ROCK.

If Abby Rock's kitchen was not heaven, it seemed very near it to Marie
that evening. She found herself suddenly in an atmosphere of peace and
comfort of which her life had heretofore known nothing. The evening
had fallen chill outside, but here all was warm and light and cheerful,
and the warmth and cheer seemed to be embodied in the person of the
woman who moved quickly to and fro, stirring the fire, putting the
kettle on the hob (for those were the days of the open fire, of crane
and kettle, and picturesque, if not convenient, housekeeping), drawing
a chair up near the cheerful blaze. Marie felt herself enfolded with
comfort. A shawl was thrown over her shoulders; she was lifted like a
child, and placed in the chair by the fireside; and now, as she sat in
a dream, fearing every moment to wake and find herself back in the old
life again, a cup of tea, hot and fragrant, was set before her, and the
handkerchief tenderly loosened from her neck, while a kind voice bade
her drink, for it would do her good.

"You look beat out, and that's the fact," said Abby Rock. "To-morrow
you shall tell me all about it, but you no need to say a single word
to-night, only just set still and rest ye. I'm a lone woman here. I
buried my mother last June, and I'm right glad to have company once in
a while. Abby Rock, my name is; and perhaps if you'd tell me yours, we
should feel more comfortable like, when we come to sit down to supper.
What do you say?"

Her glance was so kind, her voice so cordial and hearty, that Marie
could have knelt down to thank her. "I am Marie," she said, smiling
back into the kind eyes. "Only Marie, nossing else."

"Maree!" repeated