his supposed wealth.

She knew she was helpless till morning. To get out of the house was
impossible, for to do so she must pass down the stairs and through the
room below, where probably they were either sleeping or watching. If she
had courage and could only let them think she knew and suspected
nothing, she might still escape. Surely they would not dare to murder
her also, for they knew her husband would be expecting her next day, and
would be looking for her if she did not come.

With another prayer, this time uttered shiveringly, for the soul of the
pedlar, she nerved herself to get into bed again, and lay there till
morning with her child against her heart; gazing with staring, sleepless
eyes at the door which divided her from that awful room; keeping surely
the most terrible vigil that ever woman kept.

At last the morning dawned, clear and bright. A frost had set in, and
the roads were clean and hard, the sky was blue. If it had not been for
that ghastly stain that had crept across the far end of her room, she
might almost have thought that the events of the night had been but a
fearful dream.

Her child awoke, fresh and smiling, and she could hear them stirring in
the living room below. She felt that now, indeed, the hardest part of
her task was still before her. On a little table by the side of her bed
there was a small, cracked looking-glass. When she was dressed she
looked into it and saw that it reflected a face death-like in its
pallor, with burning lips and feverish eyes. She took the bottle from
her pocket again and gulped down the rest of its contents. It sent a
flush into her cheeks and steadied the sick trembling that was shaking
her through and through.

Without stopping to think or look round again, she took up her boy and
descended the stairs, and entered the room where they had supped on the
previous night.

The old woman was its sole occupant now. She was bending over the fire
frying something for breakfast, and the table in the centre of the room
was prepared for the meal. She looked if possible more untidy and
slovenly than when Babette had last seen her, and greeted the girl with
a feeble smile.

Then she poured her out a cup of coffee, and Babette had sat down and
begun to sip it (for she knew she must make a pretence of breakfasting)
when the eldest son came in. There was a very uneasy look upon his
evil-looking face.

"How are you?" he asked, sullenly, as he sat down opposite her.