old the clue to her full meaning, he could guess
it pretty nearly. Touched to the quick, he took her hand and said, or
meant to say, some words of consolation. She felt and understood them,
whether they were spoken or no. He was not quite certain, afterwards,
but that she had tried to kneel down at his feet, and bless him.

He found that he was not alone in the room when she had left it. Mrs
Todgers was there, shaking her head. Tom had never seen Mrs Todgers, it
is needless to say, but he had a perception of her being the lady of the
house; and he saw some genuine compassion in her eyes, that won his good
opinion.

'Ah, sir! You are an old friend, I see,' said Mrs Todgers.

'Yes,' said Tom.

'And yet,' quoth Mrs Todgers, shutting the door softly, 'she hasn't told
you what her troubles are, I'm certain.'

Tom was struck by these words, for they were quite true. 'Indeed,' he
said, 'she has not.'

'And never would,' said Mrs Todgers, 'if you saw her daily. She never
makes the least complaint to me, or utters a single word of explanation
or reproach. But I know,' said Mrs Todgers, drawing in her breath, 'I
know!'

Tom nodded sorrowfully, 'So do I.'

'I fully believe,' said Mrs Todgers, taking her pocket-handkerchief
from the flat reticule, 'that nobody can tell one half of what that poor
young creature has to undergo. But though she comes here, constantly,
to ease her poor full heart without his knowing it; and saying, "Mrs
Todgers, I am very low to-day; I think that I shall soon be dead," sits
crying in my room until the fit is past; I know no more from her. And,
I believe,' said Mrs Todgers, putting back her handkerchief again, 'that
she considers me a good friend too.'

Mrs Todgers might have said her best friend. Commercial gentlemen and
gravy had tried Mrs Todgers's temper; the main chance--it was such a
very small one in her case, that she might have been excused for looking
sharp after it, lest it should entirely vanish from her sight--had taken
a firm hold on Mrs Todgers's attention. But in some odd nook in Mrs
Todgers's breast, up a great many steps, and in a corner easy to be
overlooked, there was a secret door, with 'Woman' written on the spring,
which, at a touch from Mercy's hand, had flown wide open, and admitted
her for shelter.

When boarding-house accounts are balanced with all other ledgers, and
the books of the Recording Angel are made up for ever, perhaps there may
be seen an entry to thy cr