her miserable loneliness which troubled the poor child most. Her
cough, and the cold, and want of food and firing, might have been borne
had there been some one to talk to. But alone they did their work. Her
form was dreadfully shrunken, her hands as thin and bony as those her
old mother last stretched over the fire. The ale-house which had
absorbed her husband's earnings sent her no aid in this time of
distress, and he had offended the clergyman who would otherwise have
found her out. It grew dusky, as the poor creature sat on the edge of
the bed. Suddenly there was a hand on the latch of the door downstairs.
Madge trembled with eagerness as a heavy step sounded on the
floor--could it be Absalom? Her black eyes, looking larger from the
paleness of her sunken cheeks, began to blaze with a new light. The
steps came to the foot of the stairs and began ascending. She listened
eagerly. A head of yellow hair came up through the trap-door, and the
small grey eyes of young Humphreys leered on her. Disappointed and
amazed, Madge remained silent. Humphreys came up and sat on the bed
beside her.

"Thee's got thin," he said, with a sort of chuckle. "Like some grub,
wouldn't ye?"

No answer. He put his hand on her shoulder and muttered something in her
ear. Madge seemed scarcely to understand him, but sat staring wildly.

"I'll give thee sixpence," said Humphreys, showing one.

Then a full sense of his dishonourable intentions, mingled with shame
and disgust at his unutterable meanness, came over Madge, and rising
with a flush on her cheek, she struck him with all her might. It was a
feeble blow, but he was unprepared: it over-balanced him; he staggered
backwards, and fell heavily down the stairs. Madge, her heart beating
painfully fast, leaned back on the bed and listened. There was not a
sound. A dreadful thought that he might be killed flashed across her
mind. Her impulse was to go down and see, but her strength failed, and
she sat down again and waited. It seemed hours before she heard him stir
and, after a noise like a great dog shaking himself, with mingled curses
and threats, leave the house. Then a great pain came over her. She felt
as if she should die, but the greatest dread was the dread of
loneliness. She staggered to the window and looked out. A boy was
passing, and she told him to go to Mrs. Green's and send her down. Then
she fell on the bed in a faint, with the window open and the cold,
bitter, biting east wind