This is my spiritual adviser, Lady Margaret," he said.

Her ladyship cast a second look on Mary, such as few but her could
cast, and left the room.

On into the gloom of the evening Mary sat. No one brought her anything
to eat or drink, and Mr. Redmain was too much taken up with himself,
soul and body, to think of her. She was now past hunger, and growing
faint, when, through the settled darkness, the words came to her from
the bed:

"I should like to have you near me when I am dying, Mary."

The voice was a softer than she had yet heard from Mr. Redmain, and its
tone went to her heart.

"I will certainly be with you, if God please," she answered.

"There is no fear of God," returned Mr. Redmain; "it's the devil will
try to keep you away. But never you heed what any one may do or say to
prevent you. Do your very best to be with me. By that time I may not be
having my own way any more. Be sure, the first moment they can get the
better of me, they will. And you mustn't place confidence in a single
soul in this house. I don't say my wife would play me false so long as
I was able to swear at her, but I wouldn't trust her one moment longer.
You come and be with me in spite of the whole posse of them."

"I will try, Mr. Redmain," she answered, faintly. "But indeed you must
let me go now, else I may be unable to come to-morrow."

"What's the matter?" he asked hurriedly, half lifting his head with a
look of alarm. "There's no knowing," he went on, muttering to himself,
"what may happen in this cursed house."

"Nothing," replied Mary, "but that I have not had anything to eat since
I left home. I feel rather faint."

"They've given you nothing to eat!" cried Mr. Redmain, but in a tone
that seemed rather of satisfaction than displeasure. "Ring--no, don't."

"Indeed, I would rather not have anything now till I get home," said
Mary. "I don't feel inclined to eat where I am not welcome."

"Right! right! right!" said Mr. Redmain. "Stick to that. Never eat
where you are not welcome. Go home directly. Only say when you will
come to-morrow."

"I can't very well during the day," answered Mary. "There is so much to
be done, and I have so little help. But, if you should want me, I would
rather shut up the shop than not come."

"There is no need for that! Indeed, I would much rather have you in the
evening. The first of the night is worst of all. It's then the devils
are out.--Look here," he added, after a short pause, during