lane.

"I thought that you would come to me, sir," said Carry Brattle.

"Of course I should come. Did I not promise that I would come? And
where is your brother?"

But Sam had left her as soon as he had placed her in Mrs. Stiggs's
house, and Carry could not say whither he had gone. He had brought
her to Salisbury, and had remained with her two days at the Three
Honest Men, during which time the remainder of their four pounds
had been spent; and then there had been a row. Some visitors to the
house recognised poor Carry, or knew something of her tale, and evil
words were spoken. There had been a fight and Sam had thrashed some
man,--or some half-dozen men, if all that Carry said was true. She
had fled from the house in sad tears, and after a while her brother
had joined her,--bloody, with his lip cut and a black eye. It seemed
that he had had some previous knowledge of this woman who lived in
Trotter's Buildings,--had known her or her husband,--and there he had
found shelter for his sister, having explained that a clergyman would
call for her and pay for her modest wants, and then take her away.
She supposed that Sam had gone back to London; but he had been so
bruised and mauled in the fight that he had determined that Mr.
Fenwick should not see him. This was the story as Carry told it; and
Mr. Fenwick did not for a moment doubt its truth.

"And now, Carry," said he, "what is it that you would do?"

She looked up into his face, and yet not wholly into his face,--as
though she were afraid to raise her eyes so high,--and was silent.
His were intently fixed upon her, as he stood over her, and he
thought that he had never seen a sight more sad to look at. And yet
she was very pretty,--prettier, perhaps, than she had been in the
days when she would come up the aisle of his church, to take her
place among the singers, with red cheeks and bright flowing clusters
of hair. She was pale now, and he could see that her cheeks were
rough,--from paint, perhaps, and late hours, and an ill-life; but
the girl had become a woman, and the lines of her countenance were
fixed, and were very lovely, and there was a pleading eloquence about
her mouth for which there had been no need in her happy days at
Bullhampton. He had asked her what she would do! But had she not come
there, at her brother's instigation, that he might tell her what she
should do? Had he not promised that he would find her a home if she
would leave her evil ways? How