ong silence.

"If we were only back to the mill." It was Mrs. Slade's voice.

"There, now! I don't want to hear that again," quickly spoke out the
landlord. "I made a slave of myself long enough."

"You had at least a clear conscience," his wife answered.

"Do hush, will you?" Slade was now angry. "One would think, by the way
you talk sometimes, that I had broken every command of the Decalogue."

"You will break hearts as well as commandments, if you keep on for a
few years as you have begun--and ruin souls as well as fortunes."

Mrs. Slade spoke calmly, but with marked severity of tone. Her husband
answered with an oath, and then left the room, banging the door after
him. In the hush that followed I retired to my chamber, and lay for an
hour awake, pondering on all I had just heard. What a revelation was in
that brief passage of words between the landlord and his excited
companion!

NIGHT THE FOURTH.

DEATH OF LITTLE MARY MORGAN.

"Where are you going, Ann?" It was the landlord's voice. Time--a little
after dark.

"I'm going over to see Mrs. Morgan," answered his wife.

"What for?"

"I wish to go," was replied.

"Well, I don't wish you to go," said Slade, in a very decided way.

"I can't help that, Simon. Mary, I'm told, is dying, and Joe is in a
dreadful way. I'm needed there--and so are you, as to that matter.
There was a time when, if word came to you that Morgan or his family
were in trouble--"

"Do hush, will you!" exclaimed the landlord, angrily. "I won't be
preached to in this way any longer."

"Oh, well; then don't interfere with my movements, Simon; that's all I
have to say. I'm needed over there, as I just said, and I'm going."

There were considerable odds against him, and Slade, perceiving this,
turned off, muttering something that his wife did not hear, and she
went on her way. A hurried walk brought her to the wretched home of the
poor drunkard, whose wife met her at the door.

"How is Mary?" was the visitor's earnest inquiry.

Mrs. Morgan tried to answer the question; but, though her lips moved,
no sounds issued therefrom.

Mrs. Slade pressed her hands tightly in both of hers; and then passed
in with her to the room where the child lay. A stance sufficed to tell
Mrs. Slade that death had already laid his icy fingers upon her brow.

"How are you, dear?" she asked, as she bent over and kissed her.

"Better, I thank you!" replied Mary, in a low whisper.

Then she fixed h