for the herrings and stale cabbages on which she fed her husband and children when it was not convenient to get anything else, owing to supplies running short through the beer so needful to her delicate health), "well, she has took to you wonderful."

"Ay, she was losing sleep and getting so thin, and I persuaded her off the nonsense of going to bed on a drop of milk or porridge. She isn't the same woman to me since, 'cause she sees I'm her friend."

"And what about him?" asked one, eagerly.

"Oh, nobody knows; but he can hang himself if he likes so long as he only sends the money. She don't care a rush for him, and all right too; she's sick of doing for him from morning till night and no thanks for her pains."

"I say, Mrs. Swinden," said another woman, coming up and joining the group, with a jug in one hand and some pence in the other, "my James says your husband was going over the crossing last night just as the mail train came dashing by, and he and Kelly, who, you know, minds the rail there, had something to do to hold him back. Goodness me! It makes one shiver to think of it."

"Oh, then, don't think about it. He knows better than that anyway," said the wife.

"Well, you know best, in course, only I thought you ought to hear of it. James saw him home, but you weren't in, he said, and the children-"

Oh, I'll see to him, never fear; he's as cowed as a beat dog when he's had too much if I come in sight. It's when he's sober that I've no peace of my life, always rating about nothing."

About nothing! Alas, poor man! But whoever began the mischief, they were equal now in all that distracted their home and degraded themselves.

44

CHAPTER VIII.

CAUGHT AND CAPTURED.

NY news of your husband, Jane?" asked Mrs. Oakland, stepping in after a gentle tap as usual at the door. "I saw Mrs. Field yesterday, and she said that some more money had come for you. I hope there is more than money to tell me of." "Nothing that I know of, ma'am," said Jane; "I'm sure I wonder that anybody troubles about him any more, the worthless—”

"Hush, Jane, I will not hear you speak of him in that way. It does no good; it helps to harden your own heart, and is very sad for the poor children. I have not given him up, and don't intend to do so. But I wanted to know also why the little ones have not been at school this week, and only part of last week; I'm sure you know, Jane, that only real interest in them causes me to inquire about it."

Jane's colour rose as she replied,

66

"It's my duty to save all I can, because I can't tell when the money may stop coming, and I must be ready with rent and things."

"That is very true, but I am nearly sure that one reason for sending it is that the children may be kept at school, and everything go on as usual at home."

But it was too evident that things were not going on quite as formerly.

Jane looked strange, and not so neat and tidy as she used to be; the window-blind was dirty and the hearth was unswept, though it was not particularly early. Could it be that

deep hidden grief and wounded affection made the forsaken wife indifferent to anything? And the thought touched Mrs. Oakland's kind heart.

"Dear Jane," said she, taking the young woman's reluctant hand, and making her sit down beside her, "will you trust me with the real state of your feeling towards Matthew? If your heart is softened about his unhappy fault, I promise you that everything shall be done to find him, and I am sure we should succeed; but unless sure that you would receive him kindly, we dare not insist upon his coming home to coldness and reproaches.'

"If you know where he is, then, ma'am, you can say that, if he stops till I ask him back he'll stop a good bit yet," said Jane, bitterly. "I don't want any meddling between us, if you please; let him take his course, I say."

"I have no doubt it is a very miserable one, wherever he may be, and I know no more than you do," replied the lady, with wonderful patience. "But I know that he loved you dearly once, Jane, and was very fond and proud of his children, and while there are such feelings left to work upon, I would never despair of any one. Poor baby!" she added, turning to the cradle where the little one lay rocking near the fire,. "you miss dear father's strong arms and game at play."

"Me want daddy—where's daddy?" said the youngest but one, taking courage before the lady to speak her mind, and looking sideways at her mother the while. "Daddy carry Daisy on his shoulder; never tired of me. Daddy sick now; he say, Pray God make poor daddy well again, and be a good man." And then the child hid her blushing face in the baby's coverlet.

Mrs. Oakland glanced from the child to the mother, and with tears in her eyes, turned to go.

"We shall be leaving home next month, Mrs. Hill; and if

anything is heard of Matthew, or any clue to his address, I lay it on your conscience to inform me of it. You will always be kept aware of our movements."

Mrs. Hill curtseyed slightly and said, "Of course, ma'am." "Poor Jane!" thought her faithful friend, "she is certainly much altered; her ill-temper never used to be so continuous, but only broke out now and then. I fear her pride is killing her."

If the lady had looked a little closer into the cradle she would have seen something wrong there also, but she was too much occupied with the mother to notice the change in the baby.

The little creature looked sickly and strange, the full, round, firm cheek was white and flabby, the fat arms were become soft and thin. What could be the cause? Mrs. Hill said the child was teething, and very restless and troublesome, and so she had favoured it with some very decisive and effectual medicines to soothe it to sleep, and save herself the trouble of watching it. A little while before, Jane would have angrily denounced such practices as cruel and murderous; but it is wonderful how soon people become reconciled to means which favour their own selfish convenience, especially when embarked on a course they once shunned and condemned. Jane had touched the verge of a whirlpool, and in the dizzy attraction was forgetting the dignity of the matron and the tenderness of the mother. And all the while she was boasting of her great self-denials and her powers of self-control.

The Oakland family set out on a long journey, and at one of the midland stations had to wait a little time for the train to proceed. Mrs. Oakland sat on a bench near the door of the waiting-room, and her boys and girls were popping about the platform, peering into everything and observing every

body while papa was getting the tickets. Presently Willy stopped short in a run, gave a shrill whistle, and dashed off again till he came up to his mother's side gasping for breath. Mamma, mamma, I've seen him!-he's there; look, look! it's Mr. Hill!"

Up sprang the lady, forgetful of cloaks, baskets, and umbrellas. "If you are sure, Willy, fly and keep him till I come." Away sped the child like an arrow, and in a few seconds clung fast by the arm of a tall, respectable-looking man, who was standing with his hands in the pockets of his working jacket watching a train that had just come in. He looked down in astonishment on his young captor. "Why, Mr. Hill, don't you know me? Oh, I'm so glad I saw you. Here's mamma to you, and you shan't run away any more. tight as a prison," and, linking his hands round Matthew's arm, he jumped with glee.

Willy Oakland? coming to speak I'll hold you as

The prisoner was evidently perplexed; he looked right and left, before and behind, as if thinking to shake off the boy and run, but after a moment or two he gave up the idea of escape, and walked forward to meet the lady.

"Go, Willy, dear, find papa and tell him where I am," said Mrs. Oakland, advancing with outstretched hand to Matthew. "Oh, Mr. Hill," said she, kindly, "why have you cast off your old friends? But we have no time to talk much; only say that you will go home. I do entreat you to return to your family, and have done with this foolish conduct." "You don't know all, ma'am; you didn't see," muttered Matthew.

Yes, I do know, I did see, and I grieve for the cross you have had to bear, but it cannot excuse you from duty to your family. You and Jane share a responsibility before God, and one has no right to throw the whole upon the other. You