d that he could achieve something if
the first great stumbling-block were removed. Something of his gladness
communicated itself to Gladys--showed itself in the heightened, delicate
colour in her cheek, in the lustre of her eyes. So these two desolate
creatures made their first compact, binding about them in the very hour
of their meeting the links of the chain which, in the years to come,
love would make a chain of gold.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

LIZ.

Abel Graham's business was really that of a wholesale drysalter in a
very small way. His customers were chiefly found among the small
shopkeepers who abounded in the neighbourhood, and as he gave credit for
a satisfactory time, he was much patronised. To give credit to a certain
amount was the miser's policy. When he once got the unhappy debtors in
his toils it was hopeless to extricate themselves, and so they continued
paying, as they were able, high prices and exorbitant interest, which
left them no chance of making any profit in their own humble sphere. He
had also lent a great deal of money, his income from that source alone
being more than sufficient to keep himself and his niece in modest
comfort, had he so willed. But the lust of gold possessed him. It was
nothing short of physical pain for him to part with it, and he had no
intention of changing his way of life for her. He was known in the
district under the elegant _sobriquet_ of Skinny Graham; and when Gladys
heard it for the first time, she laughed silently to herself, thinking
of its fitness. The simple-hearted child quickly accommodated herself to
her surroundings, accepting her meagre lot with a serenity a more
experienced mind might have envied. She even managed to make a little
atmosphere of brightness about her, which at once communicated itself to
the two who shared it with her. They viewed this exquisite change, it
may be believed, from an entirely different standpoint. The old man
liked the comfort and the cleanliness which the girl's busy hands made
in their humble home; the boy looked on with deep eyes, wonderingly,
catching glimpses of her white soul, and knowing that it was far above
and beyond the sordid air it breathed. She went out a great deal,
wandering alone and fearlessly in the streets--always in the streets,
because as yet she did not know that even in that great city, where the
roar and the din of life are never still, and the air but seldom clear
from the smoke of its bu