"That is a difficult thing to give," replied Miss Vallence, slowly. "I am most desirous of helping you--I may say further, that I certainly _will_ help you to the best of my ability; but a promise in the dark seems scarcely right--why do you ask it of me?" "Because you can help me in no other way, Miss Vallence. It's just a question of trusting a lass you ha' never seen afore. No harm shall happen to you--not a hair of your head shall be touched, but you must go blindly with me,--in the dark--that's it; there's no other way." "You're a strange creature," said Miss Vallence. "You move me, you excite me. In spite of myself, I cannot help believing in you. I may be wrong, but for once I will be guided by the queer influence you have over me--by the something within which compels me to trust you. Hester Wright, I will promise to do what you want." Hester's earnest dark eyes filled with tears. "You ha' taken a load off me," she said. "There is a good God--for He made you. The lad has a chance now, and Bet has a chance; and perhaps the little 'un may get well arter all. Oh! every thing may come right arter all, and it 'ull be owing to you, just because you weren't afeard, and trusted a lass you had never seen. Miss Vallence, it won't be to-night, nor to-morrow night--but the night arter--some time the night arter--I'll come here, and then I'll ask you to go with me. You needn't be afeard; no one in all Liverpool will be safer nor you; but you'll be coming with me in the dark. A brave lady! Eh! I used to think as ladies had no real sperrit, but I'll never think so no more!" "I'll be ready for you, Hester," said Sister Mary, in her gravest voice. "The night after next--at what hour will you call for me, Hester?" "Sister, I may not come at all, and I can't name the hour--it may be any time atween eight o'clock and midnight. I may fail--only I don't think so." "You will not fail," said Miss Vallence. "I will be ready." They clasped each other's hands and parted. CHAPTER XXIX. If ever a girl ought to feel happy it should be on the eve of her wedding-day. To a great many, however, this turning-point in life, this step into a new and unknown world, is fraught with terror and distress. Wedding bells do not always mean happiness. Bet Granger was sitting alone in Jenny's attic. She was to be married before the registrar to-morrow to Isaac Dent. He had made all arrangements, and had come over from Liverpool that day to see his promised bride. He had spent half an hour with Bet--had told her when and where to meet him the next morning, and then had gone back to his old haunts, a victorious and satisfied man.