t Tom full in the eyes, and made him no answer.

"If I don't find Letty this very morning," said Tom, "I shall apply for
a warrant to search your house: my uncle Rendall will give me one."

Godfrey smiled a smile of scorn, turned from him as a wise man turns
from a fool, and went out of the gate.

He had just taken his horse from the boy and sent him off, when he saw
a young woman coming hurriedly across the road, from the direction of
Testbridge. Plainly she was on business of pressing import. She came
nearer, and he saw it was Mary Marston. The moment she recognized
Godfrey, she began to run to him; but, when she came near enough to
take notice of his mien, as he stood with his foot in the stirrup, with
no word of greeting or look of reception, and inquiry only in every
feature, her haste suddenly dropped, her flushed face turned pale, and
she stood still, panting. Not a word could she utter, and was but just
able to force a faint smile, with intent to reassure him.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE RESULT.

Letty would never perhaps have come to herself in the cold of this
world, under the shifting tent of the winter night, but for an outcast
mongrel dog, which, wandering masterless and hungry, but not selfish,
along the road, came upon her where she lay seemingly lifeless, and,
recognizing with pity his neighbor in misfortune, began at once to give
her--it was all he had that was separable--what help and healing might
lie in a warm, honest tongue. Diligently he set himself to lick her
face and hands.

By slow degrees her misery returned, and she sat up. Rejoiced at his
success, the dog kept dodging about her, catching a lick here and a
lick there, wherever he saw a spot of bare within his reach. By slow
degrees, next, the knowledge of herself joined on to the knowledge of
her misery, and she knew who it was that was miserable. She threw her
arms round the dog, laid her head on his, and wept. This relieved her a
little: weeping is good, even to such as Alberigo in an ice-pot of
hell. But she was cold to the very marrow, almost too cold to feel it;
and, when she rose, could scarcely put one foot before the other.

Not once, for all her misery, did she imagine a return to Thornwick.
Without a thought of whither, she moved on, unaware even that it was in
the direction of the town. The dog, delighted to believe that he had
raised up to himself a mistress, followed humbly at her heel: but
always when she stopped, as sh