u must not come. I must live alone
now," sinking her voice into the low tones of despair.

But Libbie's resolution was brave and strong. "I'm not afraid," said
she, smiling. "I know you better than you know yourself, Mrs. Hall. I've
seen you try of late to keep it down, when you've been boiling over, and
I think you'll go on a-doing so. And at any rate, when you've had your
fit out, you're very kind, and I can forget if you've been a bit put
out. But I'll try not to put you out. Do let me come: I think _he_ would
like us to keep together. I'll do my very best to make you comfortable."

"It's me! it's me as will be making your life miserable with my temper;
or else, God knows, how my heart clings to you. You and me is folk
alone in the world, for we both loved one who is dead, and who had none
else to love him. If you will live with me, Libbie, I'll try as I never
did afore to be gentle and quiet-tempered. Oh! will you try me, Libbie
Marsh?" So out of the little grave there sprang a hope and a resolution,
which made life an object to each of the two.

When Elizabeth Marsh returned home the next evening from her day's
labours, Anne (Dixon no longer) crossed over, all in her bridal finery,
to endeavour to induce her to join the dance going on in her father's
house.

"Dear Anne, this is good of you, a-thinking of me to-night," said
Libbie, kissing her, "and though I cannot come,--I've promised Mrs. Hall
to be with her,--I shall think on you, and I trust you'll be happy. I
have got a little needle-case I have looked out for you; stay, here it
is,--I wish it were more--only----"

"Only, I know what. You've been a-spending all your money in nice
things for poor Franky. Thou'rt a real good un, Libbie, and I'll keep
your needle-book to my dying day, that I will." Seeing Anne in such a
friendly mood, emboldened Libbie to tell her of her change of place; of
her intention of lodging henceforward with Margaret Hall.

"Thou never will! Why father and mother are as fond of thee as can be;
they'll lower thy rent if that's what it is--and thou knowst they never
grudge thee bit or drop. And Margaret Hall, of all folk, to lodge wi'!
She's such a Tartar! Sooner than not have a quarrel, she'd fight right
hand against left. Thou'lt have no peace of thy life. What on earth can
make you think of such a thing, Libbie Marsh?"

"She'll be so lonely without me," pleaded Libbie. "I'm sure I could make
her happier, even if she did scold me