their knees an' hid their faces i' her dress, an' i' her honds, as if
they thowt she could keep th' truth fro' 'em."

Grace trembled in his excitement.

"God bless her! God bless her!" he said, again and again.

"Where is she now?" he asked at length.

"Theer wur a little chap as come up i' the last cageful--he wur hurt
bad, an' he wur sich a little chap as it went hard wi' him. When th'
doctor touched him he screamed an' begged to be let alone, an' she heerd
an' went to him, an' knelt down an' quieted him a bit. Th' poor little
lad would na let go o' her dress; he held to it fur dear life, an'
sobbed an' shivered and begged her to go wi' him an' howd his head on
her lap while th' doctor did what mun be done. An' so she went, an'
she's wi' him now. He will na live till day-leet, an' he keeps crying
out for th' lady to stay wi' him."

There was another silence, and then Joan spoke:

"Canna yo' guess what I coom to say?"

He thought he could, and perhaps his glance told her so.

"If I wur a lady," she said, her lips, her hands trembling, "I could na
ax yo' what I've made up my moind to; but I'm noan a lady, an' it does
na matter. If yo' need some one to help yo' wi' him, will yo' let me ha'
th' place? I dunnot ax nowt else but--but to be let do th' hard work."

She ended with a sob. Suddenly she covered her face with her hands,
weeping wildly.

"Don't do that," he said, gently. "Come with me. It is you he needs."

He led the way into the house and up the stairs, Joan following him.
When they entered the room they went to the bedside.

The injured man lay motionless.

"Is theer loife i' him yet?" asked Joan. "He looks as if theer might na
be."

"There is life in him," Grace answered; "and he has been a strong man,
so I think we may feel some hope."

CHAPTER XXXVII - Watching and Waiting

The next morning the pony-carriage stopped before the door of the
Curate's lodgings. When Grace went downstairs to the parlor, Anice
Barholm turned from the window to greet him. The appearance of physical
exhaustion he had observed the night before in Joan Lowrie, he saw again
in her, but he had never before seen the face which Anice turned toward
him.

"I was on the ground yesterday, and saw you go down into the mine," she
said. "I had never thought of such courage before."

That was all, but in a second he comprehended that this morning they
stood nearer together than they had ever stood before.

"How is th