t, dropped an iron bar across it for the night.
Then she threw off her cloak, and hung it up on a nail in the wall, and
bending over a lamp which was burning low on the table, turned up its
wick a little higher. Helmsley watched her in a kind of stupefied
wonderment. As the lamplight flashed up on her features, he saw that she
was not a girl, but a woman who seemed to have thought and suffered. Her
face was pale, and the lines of her mouth were serious, though very
sweet. He could hardly judge whether she had beauty or not, because he
saw her at a disadvantage. He was too ill to appreciate details, and he
could only gaze at her in the dim and troubled weariness of an old and
helpless man, who for the time being was dependent on any kindly aid
that might be offered to him. Once or twice the vague idea crossed his
mind that he would tell her who he was, and assure her that he had
plenty of money about him to reward her for her care and pains,--but he
could not bring himself to the point of this confession. The surprise
and sweetness of being received thus unquestioningly under the shelter
of her roof as merely the poor way-worn tramp he seemed to be, were too
great for him to relinquish. She, meanwhile, having trimmed the lamp,
hurried into a neighboring room, and came in again with a bundle of
woollen garments, and a thick flannel dressing gown on her arm.

"This was my father's," she said, as she brought it to him--"It's soft
and cosy. Get off your wet clothes and slip into it, while I go and make
your bed ready."

She spread the dressing gown before the fire to warm it, and was about
to turn away again, when Helmsley laid a detaining hand on her arm.

"Wait--wait!" he said--"Do you know what you are doing?"

She laughed.

"Well, now that _is_ a question! Do I seem crazy?"

"Almost you do--to me!" And stirred into a sudden flicker of animation,
he held her fast as he spoke--"Do you live alone here?"

"Yes,--quite alone."

"Then don't you see how foolish you are? You are taking into your house
a mere tramp,--a beggar who is more likely to die than live! Do you
realise how dangerous this is for you? I may be an escaped convict,--a
thief--even a murderer! You cannot tell!"

She smiled and nodded at him as a nurse might nod and smile at a
fanciful or querulous patient.

"I can't tell, certainly, and don't want to know!" she replied--"I go by
what I see."

"And what do you see?"

She patted his thin cold hand