covered?" she
replied, bursting into tears--"and I must leave you, and leave
Leonard, that you may not share in my disgrace."

"You must do no such thing. Leave Leonard! You have no right to leave
Leonard. Where could you go to?"

"To Helmsby," she said, humbly. "It would break my heart to go, but
I think I ought, for Leonard's sake. I know I ought." She was crying
sadly by this time, but Mr Benson knew the flow of tears would ease
her brain. "It will break my heart to go, but I know I must."

"Sit still here at present," said he, in a decided tone of command.
He went for the cup of tea. He brought it to her without Sally's
being aware for whom it was intended.

"Drink this!" He spoke as you would do to a child, if desiring it
to take medicine. "Eat some toast." She took the tea, and drank it
feverishly; but when she tried to eat, the food seemed to choke her.
Still she was docile, and she tried.

"I cannot," said she at last, putting down the piece of toast. There
was a return to something of her usual tone in the words. She spoke
gently and softly; no longer in the shrill, hoarse voice she had used
at first. Mr Benson sat down by her.

"Now, Ruth, we must talk a little together. I want to understand what
your plan was. Where is Helmsby? Why did you fix to go there?"

"It is where my mother lived," she answered. "Before she was married
she lived there; and wherever she lived, the people all loved her
dearly; and I thought--I think, that for her sake some one would give
me work. I meant to tell them the truth," said she, dropping her
eyes; "but still they would, perhaps, give me some employment--I
don't care what--for her sake. I could do many things," said she,
suddenly looking up. "I am sure I could weed--I could in gardens--if
they did not like to have me in their houses. But perhaps some one,
for my mother's sake--oh! my dear, dear mother!--do you know where
and what I am?" she cried out, sobbing afresh.

Mr Benson's heart was very sore, though he spoke authoritatively, and
almost sternly.

"Ruth! you must be still and quiet. I cannot have this. I want you
to listen to me. Your thought of Helmsby would be a good one, if it
was right for you to leave Eccleston; but I do not think it is. I
am certain of this, that it would be a great sin in you to separate
yourself from Leonard. You have no right to sever the tie by which
God has bound you together."

"But if I am here they will all know and remember the