es he looked on were museful, a
picture in their one expression.

Her answer chilled him. 'It is true, my lord. I will not detain you. I
would beg to be supplied with money.'

He was like the leaves of a frosted plant, in his crisp curling
inward:--he had been so genial.

'You have come to say good-bye, that an opportunity to--as you put
it--beg for money. I am not sure of your having learnt yet the right
disposal of money.'

'I beg, my lord, to have two thousand pounds a year allowed me.'

'Ten--and it's a task to spend the sum on a single household--shall be
alloted to your expenditure at Esslemont;--stables, bills, et caetera.
You can entertain. My steward Leddings will undertake the management. You
will not be troubled with payings.'

Her head acknowledged the graciousness.--'I would have two thousand
pounds and live where I please.'

'Pardon me: the two, for a lady living where she pleases, exceeds the
required amount.'

'I will accept a smaller sum, my lord.'

'Money!-it seems a singular demand when all supplies are furnished.'

'I would have control of some money.'

'You are thinking of charities.'

'Not charities.'

'Edwards here has a provision for the hospital needs of the people. Mr.
Woodseer applies to me in cases he can certify. Leddings will do the same
at Esslemont.'

'I am glad, I am thankful. The money I would have is for my own use. It
is for me.'

'Ah. Scarcely that, I fancy.'

The remark should have struck home. He had a thirst for the sign of her
confessing to it. He looked. Something like a petrifaction of her wildest
face was shown.

Carinthia's eyes were hard out on a scattered knot of children down the
street.

She gathered up her skirts. Without a word to him, she ran, and running
shouted to the little ones around and ahead: 'In! in! indoors, children!
"Blant, i'r ty!" Mothers, mothers, ho! get them in. See the dog! "Ci!
Ci!" In with them! "Blant, i'r ty! Vr ty!"'

A big black mongrel appeared worrying at one of two petticoated urchins
on the ground.

She scurried her swiftest, with such warning Welsh as she had on the top
of her mountain cry; and doors flew wide, there was a bang of doors when
she darted by: first gust of terrible heavens that she seemed to the
cottagers.

Other shouts behind her rent the air, gathering to a roar, from the
breasts of men and women. 'Mad dog about' had been for days the rumour,
crossing the hills over the line of village, hamlet, f