ct; for
Philip, careless of her convenience, had only procured the services of a
girl from a neighboring farm-house, who attended to the household duties
during the day, and went home in the evening. But her womanly compassion
was stronger than her sense of horror, and kneeling by the side of the
prostrate woman, with inexpressible relief she perceived, by the slight
pulsation of the heart, that life was there. Entering her chamber, she
hastily put on a morning wrapper, and returning with towel and water,
raised Moll's head upon her lap, and washed the thick blood from her
face. The cooling moisture revived the wounded woman; her bosom swelled
with a deep sigh, and she opened her eyes and looked languidly around.

"How do you feel now, madam?" asked Miranda, gently.

"Who are you?" said Moll, in reply, after a moment's pause.

"Miranda--Miranda Searle, the wife of Philip," she added, trembling at
the remembrance of the woman's treatment at her husband's hands.

Molly raised herself with an effort, and sat upon the floor, looking at
Miranda, while she laughed with a loud and hollow sound.

"Philip's wife, eh? And you love him, don't you? Well, dreams can't last
forever."

"Don't you feel strong enough to get up and lie upon the bed?" asked
Miranda, soothingly, for she was uncomfortable tinder the strange glare
that the woman fixed upon her.

"I'm well enough," said Moll. "Where's Philip?"

"Indeed, I do not know. I am very sorry, ma'am, that--that"--

"Never mind. Give me a glass of water."

Miranda hastened to comply, and Moll swallowed the water, and remained
silent for a moment.

"Shan't I go for assistance?" asked Miranda, who was anxious to put an
end to this painful interview, and was also distressed about her
husband's absence. "There's no one except ourselves in the house, but I
can go to the farmer's house near by."

"Not for the world," interrupted Moll, taking her by the arm. "I'm well
enough. Here, let me lean on you. That's it. I'll sit on the
rocking-chair. Thank you. Just bind my head up, will you? Is it an ugly
cut?" she asked, as Miranda, having procured some linen, carefully
bandaged the wounded part.

"Oh, yes! It's very bad. Does it pain you much, ma'am?"

"Never mind. There, that will do. Now sit down there. Don't be afraid of
me. I ain't a-going to hurt you. It's only the cut that makes me look so
ugly."

"Oh, no! I am not at all afraid, ma'am," said Miranda, shuddering in
spite o