nd then muttered, as if speaking
to himself: "I told that Bonnithorne this hole and corner was no place
for the girl. He should have taken her to London."

The girl's heart grew sick. The book was closed and dropped back on to
the table.

"And now, Mercy," said Hugh Ritson, "I want you to be a good little
woman, and do as I bid you, and not speak a word. Will you?"

The child-face brightened, and Mercy nodded her head, a little tear
rolling out of one gleaming eye. At the same moment she put her hand in
the pocket of her muslin apron, and took out a pair of knitted mittens,
and tried to draw them on to Hugh's wrists.

He looked at the gift, and smiled, and said: "I won't need these--not
to-day, I mean. See, I wear long gloves, with fur wristbands--there,
I'll store your mittens away in my pocket. What a sad little
soul--crying again?"

Mercy's pretty dreams were dying one by one. She lifted now a timid hand
until it rested lightly on his breast.

"Listen. I'm going out, but I'll soon be back. I must talk with Mrs.
Drayton, and I've something to pay her, you know."

The timid hand fell to the girl's side.

"When I return there may be some friends with me--a lady and a
gentleman--but I want to see them alone, quite alone, and I don't want
them to see you--do you understand?"

A great dumb sadness was closing in on Mercy's heart.

"But they will soon be gone, and then to-morrow you and I must talk
again, and try to arrange matters so that you won't be quite so lonely,
but will stir about, and see the doctor for your eyes, and get well
again, and try to forget--"

"Forget!" said the girl, faintly. Her parched throat took away her
voice.

"I mean--that is to say--I was hoping--of course, I mean forget all the
trouble in Cumberland. And now get away to bed like a good little girl.
I must be off. Ah, how late!--see, a quarter to eleven, and my watch is
slow."

He walked into the bar, buttoning up his coat to his ears. The girl
followed him listlessly. Mrs. Drayton was washing glasses behind the
counter.

"Mind you send this little friend of mine to bed very soon," said Hugh
to the landlady. "Look how red her eyes are! And keep a good fire in
this cozy parlor on the left--you are to have visitors--you need not
trouble about a bedroom--they won't stay long. Let me see, what do they
say is the time of your last up-train?"

"To London? The last one starts away at half past twelve," said the
landlady.

"Very