ul little thing! you had good Mrs. Drayton here, and
her son, and all the smart young fellows of Hendon who came to drink at
the bar and say pretty things to the little bar-maid, and--"

"It's not that--I had no one who knew you," she said, and dropped her
voice to a whisper.

"But you go out sometimes--into the village--to London?" he said.

"No, I never go out--never now."

"Then your eyes are really worse?"

"It's not my eyes. But, never mind. Oh, I knew you would not forget me.
Only sometimes of an evening, when the dusk fell in, and I sat by the
fire all alone, something would say, 'He doesn't want me,' 'He won't
come for me.' But that was not true, was it?"

"Why, no; of course not."

"And then when the children came--the neighbor's children,--and I put
the little darlings to bed, and they said their prayers to me, and I
tried to pray, too--sometimes I was afraid to pray--and then, and then,"
(she glanced round watchfully and dropped her voice) "something would
say, 'Why didn't he leave me alone? I was so happy!'"

"You morbid little woman! You shall be happy again--you are happy now,
are you not?" he said.

Her eyes, bleared and red, but bright with the shafts of love, looked up
at him in the dumb joy that is perfect happiness.

"Ah!" she said, and dropped her comely head on his breast.

"But you should have taken walks--long, healthy, happy walks," he said.

"I did--while the roses bloomed and the dahlias and things, and I saved
so many of them against you would come, moss roses and wild white roses;
but you were so long coming and they withered. And then I couldn't throw
them away, because, you know, they were yours; so I pressed them in the
book you gave me. See, let me show you."

She stepped aside eagerly to pick up a little gilt-edged book from the
table in the inner room. He followed her mechanically, hardly heeding
her happy prattle.

"And was there no young fellow in all Hendon to make those lonely walks
of yours more cheerful?"

She was opening her book with nervous fingers, and stopped to look up
with blank eyes.

"Eh? No handsome young fellow who whispered that you were a pretty
little thing, and had no right to go moping about by yourself? None?
Eh?"

Her old look of weariness was creeping back.

"Come, Mercy, tell the truth, you sly little thing--eh?"

She was fumbling his withered roses with nervous fingers. Her throat
felt parched.

He looked down at her saddening face, a