destly.

'What affectation,' thought Miss Gwynne, as she said, 'oh, no! he says
you are the best player.'

'I disclaim that entirely,' said Rowland. 'I merely beat two games out
of three, and we had not time for another.'

Rowland had been, according to promise, to dine and play chess with Mr
Gwynne; Miss Gwynne had dined with them, but had left them after dinner
to follow their own devices, whilst she had followed hers, and did not
reappear during the evening. Mr Gwynne had reproached her for her
absence, and she had declared that she hated to be so long without
talking, and that chess and young Prothero were perfect antidotes to
conversation.

'That ancient, Saracenic game, as Mr Jonathan Prothero calls it, played
by a Goth,' she said, 'is beyond my store of politeness.'

Mrs Prothero and Miss Gwynne went to see the poor Irish girl; they found
her rather better, and able to speak to them with some degree of
composure. The fever and its accompanying delirium had abated, and the
danger was past; but, as is usual in such cases, extreme weakness was
the result.

'God bless you, my ladies,' she murmured, as Miss Gwynne stooped over
her to inquire how she did, and Mrs Prothero took her thin hand. 'I am
better, thank ye; I can see and understand, and know now all that you
have done for the wretched beggar.'

Here the poor girl's tears began to flow.

'We only wish to see you get well,' said Miss Gwynne softly, 'and then
we can help you to find your friends.'

'I have no friends in the world miss, asthore; my father died years ago,
and my mother, brother, and sister all died of this horrible famine and
pestilence! oh me! oh me!'

The tears flowed still faster, and Mrs Prothero begged her to be silent,
and not to excite herself; but with restless eagerness she went on, as
if anxious to pour forth her sorrows whilst she felt the strength to do
so. It was remarkable that her English was very good, and that, with the
exception of an occasional Irish epithet of endearment, you would
scarcely have discovered her country. Indeed, the Welsh peculiarities of
expression and accent sometimes appeared, so that it would have been
difficult to say where she was born or brought up.

'I am going to look for my friends, if I live, and then, may be, I may
be able to repay you for your kindness to me, a poor, wretched wanderer
on the face of God's earth. If you'll be pleased to listen whilst I have
the strength, I will tell you my