lls, my father protected
against the wet with pitch and tar. This gave to our little abode a
curiously dark, dingy look, especially when it was seen from a distance;
and so it had come to be called in the neighborhood, even before I was
born, The Black Cottage.

I have now related the preliminary particulars which it is desirable
that you should know, and may proceed at once to the pleasanter task of
telling you my story.

One cloudy autumn day, when I was rather more than eighteen years old,
a herdsman walked over from Moor Farm with a letter which had been left
there for my father. It came from a builder living at our county town,
half a day's journey off, and it invited my father to come to him and
give his judgment about an estimate for some stonework on a very large
scale. My father's expenses for loss of time were to be paid, and he was
to have his share of employment afterwards in preparing the stone. He
was only too glad, therefore, to obey the directions which the letter
contained, and to prepare at once for his long walk to the county town.

Considering the time at which he received the letter, and the necessity
of resting before he attempted to return, it was impossible for him to
avoid being away from home for one night, at least. He proposed to me,
in case I disliked being left alone in the Black Cottage, to lock the
door and to take me to Moor Farm to sleep with any one of the milkmaids
who would give me a share of her bed. I by no means liked the notion of
sleeping with a girl whom I did not know, and I saw no reason to feel
afraid of being left alone for only one night; so I declined. No thieves
had ever come near us; our poverty was sufficient protection against
them; and of other dangers there were none that even the most timid
person could apprehend. Accordingly, I got my father's dinner, laughing
at the notion of my taking refuge under the protection of a milkmaid
at Moor Farm. He started for his walk as soon as he had done, saying he
should try and be back by dinner-time the next day, and leaving me and
my cat Polly to take care of the house.

I had cleared the table and brightened up the fire, and had sat down to
my work with the cat dozing at my feet, when I heard the trampling of
horses, and, running to the door, saw Mr. and Mrs. Knifton, with their
groom behind them, riding up to the Black Cottage. It was part of the
young lady's kindness never to neglect an opportunity of coming to pay
me a