and harmless, she knew no dark. No cold looks--no
sorrowful sights--no winter--no age. The hand laid upon her clear eyes
pressed eternal peace down on her soul. I believe she was, if ever
human being was, purely and entirely happy. It was always sweet for us
to know this--it is very sweet still, Muriel, our beloved!

We brought her within the house, but she persisted in sitting in her
usual place, on the door-sill, "waiting" for her father. It was she
who first heard the white gate swing, and told us he was coming.

Ursula ran down to the stream to meet him.

When they came up the path, it was not alone--John was helping a lame
old woman, and his wife carried in her arms a sick child, on whom, when
they entered the kitchen, Mary Baines threw herself in a passion of
crying.

"What have they been doing to 'ee, Tommy?--'ee warn't like this when I
left 'ee. Oh, they've been killing my lad, they have!"

"Hush!" said Mrs. Halifax; "we'll get him well again, please God.
Listen to what the master's saying."

He was telling to the men who gathered round the kitchen-door the
results of his journey.

It was--as I had expected from his countenance the first minute he
appeared--fruitless. He had found all things at Kingswell as stated.
Then he rode to the sheriff's; but Sir Ralph was absent, sent for to
Luxmore Hall on very painful business.

"My friends," said the master, stopping abruptly in his narrative, "for
a few hours you must make up your minds to sit still and bear it.
Every man has to learn that lesson at times. Your landlord has--I
would rather be the poorest among you than Lord Luxmore this night. Be
patient; we'll lodge you all somehow. To-morrow I will pay your
rent--get your goods back--and you shall begin the world again, as my
tenants, not Lord Luxmore's."

"Hurrah!" shouted the men, easily satisfied; as working people are, who
have been used all their days to live from hand to mouth, and to whom
the present is all in all. They followed the master, who settled them
in the barn; and then came back to consult with his wife as to where
the women could be stowed away. So, in a short time, the five homeless
families were cheerily disposed of--all but Mary Baines and her sick
boy.

"What can we do with them?" said John, questioningly to Ursula.

"I see but one course. We must take him in; his mother says hunger is
the chief thing that ails the lad. She fancies that he has had the
measles; but o