to a sort of
a passage, with some tattered horse-cloths hanging over its outer
entrance.

"You can't come in here," said a shabby lad, suddenly appearing from the
inside in his shirt sleeves.

Mr. Blyth took out half-a-crown. "I want to see the deaf and dumb child
directly!"

"Oh, all right! go in," muttered the lad, pocketing the money greedily.

Valentine hastily entered the passage. As soon as he was inside, a sound
reached his ears at which his heart sickened and turned faint. No words
can describe it in all the horror of its helplessness--it was the moan
of pain from a dumb human creature.

He thrust aside a curtain, and stood in a filthy place, partitioned off
from the stables on one side, and the circus on the other, with canvas
and old boards. There, on a wooden stool, sat the woman who had accosted
him the night before, crying, and soothing the child, who lay shuddering
on her bosom. The sobs of the clown's wife mingled with the inarticulate
wailing, so low, yet so awful to hear; and both sounds were audible with
a fearful, unnatural distinctness, through the merry melody of the jig,
and the peals of hearty laughter from the audience in the circus.

"Oh, my God!" cried Valentine, horror-struck at what he heard, "stop
her! don't let her moan in that way!"

The woman started from her seat, and put the child down, then recognized
Mr. Blyth and rushed up to him.

"Hush!" she whispered eagerly, "don't call out like that! The villain,
the brutal, heartless villain is somewhere about the stables. If he
hears you, he'll come in and beat her again.--Oh, hush! hush, for God's
sake! It's true he beat her--the cowardly, hellish brute!--only for
making that one little mistake with the cards. No! no! no! don't speak
out so loud, or you'll ruin us. How did you ever get in here?--Oh!
you must be quiet! There, sit down--Hark! I'm sure he's coming! Oh! go
away--go away!"

She tried to pull Valentine out of the chair into which she had thrust
him but the instant before. He seized tight hold of her hand and refused
to move. If Mr. Jubber had come in at that moment, he would have been
thrashed within an inch of his life.

The child had ceased moaning when she saw Valentine. She anxiously
looked at him through her tears--then turned away quickly--took out her
little handkerchief--and began to dry her eyes.

"I can't go yet--I'll promise only to whisper--you must listen to me,"
said Mr. Blyth, pale and panting for brea