he brow.

She lifted up her head and became conscious of a formidable old woman,
who was standing behind the counter at a side door, eying her with the
severest scrutiny. This old woman was tall and thin, and had a fine face,
the lower part of which was feminine enough; but the forehead and brows
were alarming. Though her hair was silvery, the brows were black and
shaggy, and the forehead was divided by a vertical furrow into two
temples. Under those shaggy eyebrows shone dark gray eyes that passed for
black with most people; and those eyes were fixed on Helen, reading her.
Helen's light hazel eyes returned their gaze. She blushed, and, still
looking, said, "Pray, madam, can I see Mr. Undercliff?"

"My son is out for the day, miss," said the old lady civilly.

"Oh, dear! how unfortunate I am!" said Helen, with a sigh.

"He comes back to-night. You can see him to-morrow at ten o'clock. A
question of handwriting?"

"Not exactly," said Helen; "but he was witness in favor of a person I
know was innocent."

"But he was found guilty," said the other, with cool frankness.

"Yes, madam. And he has no friend to clear him but me, a poor weak girl,
baffled and defeated whichever way I turn." She began to cry.

The old woman looked at her crying, with that steady composure which
marks her sex on these occasions; and, when she was better, said quietly,
"You are not so weak as you think." She added, after a while, "If you
wish to retain my son, you had better leave a fee."

"With pleasure, madam. What is the fee?"

"One guinea. Of course, there is a separate charge for any work he may do
for you."

"That is but reasonable, madam." And with this she paid the fee, and rose
to go.

"Shall I send any one home with you?"

"No, thank you," said Helen. "Why?"

"Because you are followed, and because you are not used to be followed."

"Why, how did you find that out?"

"By your face, when a man passed the window--a shabby-genteel fellow; he
was employed by some gentleman, no doubt. Such faces as yours will be
followed in London. If you feel uneasy, miss, I will put on my bonnet and
see you home."

Helen was surprised at this act of substantial civility from the Gorgon.
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Undercliff," said she. "No, I am not the least
afraid. Let them follow me, I am doing nothing that I am ashamed of.
Indeed, I am glad I am thought worth the trouble of following. It shows
me I am not so thoroughly contemptible. Good-by,