left us to do what we can. We shall both have to get our own living.
I've been thinking how nice it would be if you could get a place as
housemaid and me nurse, in the same house. Wouldn't that be first-rate?
You're very poor, aren't you, Aunt Nelly?"

"Very poor!" I repeated, hiding my face on her pillow, while hot tears
forced themselves through my eyelids.

"Oh! this will never do," said the childish voice; "we mustn't cry, you
know. The boys always said it was like a baby to cry; and father used to
say, 'Courage, Minima!' Perhaps, when all our money is gone, we shall
find a great big purse full of gold; or else a beautiful French prince
will see you, and fall in love with you, and take us both to his palace,
and make you his princess; and we shall all grow up till we die."

I laughed at the oddity of this childish climax in spite of the
heaviness of my heart and the springing of my tears. Minima's fresh
young fancies were too droll to resist, especially in combination with
her shrewd, old-womanish knowledge of many things of which I was
ignorant.

"I should know exactly what to do if we were in London," she resumed;
"we could take our things to the pawnbroker's, and get lots of money for
them. That is what poor people do. Mrs. Foster has pawned all her rings
and brooches. It is quite easy to do, you know; but perhaps there are no
pawn-shops in France."

This incidental mention of Mrs. Foster had sent my thoughts and fears
fluttering toward a deep, unutterable dread, which was lurking under all
my other cares. Should I be driven by the mere stress of utter poverty
to return to my husband? There must be something wrong in a law which
bound me captive, body and soul, to a man whose very name had become a
terror to me, and to escape whom I was willing to face any difficulties,
any distresses. But all my knowledge of the law came from his lips, and
he would gladly deceive me. It might be that I was suffering all these
troubles quite needlessly. Across the darkness of my prospects flushed a
thought that seemed like an angel of light. Why should I not try to make
my way to Mrs. Dobree, Martin's mother, to whom I could tell my whole
history, and on whose friendship and protection I could rely implicitly?
She would learn for me how far the law would protect me. By this time
Kate Daltrey would have quitted the Channel Islands, satisfied that I
had eluded her pursuit. The route to the Channel Islands was neither
long nor