n and
kissed the pale, worn hand that lay outside the bed-clothes. No touch
disturbed the sleeper; the mother need not have laid the hand so gently
down upon the counterpane. There was no sign of life, save only now and
then a deep sob-like sigh. Mrs. Leigh sat down beside the bed, and still
holding back the curtain, looked on and on, as if she could never be
satisfied.

Susan would fain have stayed by her darling one; but she had many calls
upon her time and thoughts, and her will had now, as ever, to be given up
to that of others. All seemed to devolve the burden of their cares on
her. Her father, ill-humoured from his last night's intemperance, did
not scruple to reproach her with being the cause of little Nanny's death;
and when, after bearing his upbraiding meekly for some time, she could no
longer restrain herself, but began to cry, he wounded her even more by
his injudicious attempts at comfort; for he said it was as well the child
was dead; it was none of theirs, and why should they be troubled with it?
Susan wrung her hands at this, and came and stood before her father, and
implored him to forbear. Then she had to take all requisite steps for
the coroner's inquest; she had to arrange for the dismissal of her
school; she had to summons a little neighbour, and send his willing feet
on a message to William Leigh, who, she felt, ought to be informed of his
mother's whereabouts, and of the whole state of affairs. She asked her
messenger to tell him to come and speak to her; that his mother was at
her house. She was thankful that her father sauntered out to have a
gossip at the nearest coach-stand, and to relate as many of the night's
adventures as he knew; for as yet he was in ignorance of the watcher and
the watched, who silently passed away the hours upstairs.

At dinner-time Will came. He looked red, glad, impatient, excited. Susan
stood calm and white before him, her soft, loving eyes gazing straight
into his.

"Will," said she, in a low, quiet voice, "your sister is upstairs."

"My sister!" said he, as if affrighted at the idea, and losing his glad
look in one of gloom. Susan saw it, and her heart sank a little, but she
went on as calm to all appearance as ever.

"She was little Nanny's mother, as perhaps you know. Poor little Nanny
was killed last night by a fall downstairs." All the calmness was gone;
all the suppressed feeling was displayed in spite of every effort. She
sat down, and hid h