After this dose he lay in her arms for long hours in heavy slumber. It was a foggy day, and very little light came into the cellar; but what fitful rays did penetrate the gloom fell upon a very white and sunken little face. Yes; there was no doubt at last, no doubt at all, that Roy looked as bad as Davie had looked; nay, more, that he looked worse than Davie had ever looked, except--Oh! good God! was Roy going to die too? Hannah felt herself trembling all over as this thought occurred to her. Was she a second time to lose her all; was a second time her one heart's treasure to be torn from her arms and from her love? "And I promised God as I'd try hard to be good ef He'd leave me this yere young 'un as I found lost in the street," she said. In her sore despair she felt angry against God. What right had He not to take her at her word, and allow her to be good in her own way? It had never yet entered into her poor, untaught mind that in keeping little Roy she was keeping what was not her own. The other folks to whom God had first entrusted him had been careless of so great and precious a trust, so he had been sent to her. She regarded him as absolutely her own, and no idea of returning him to his people entered once into her head. Of course they might by great cleverness trace him until they found him, and then they would tear him from her arms; but never, until this happened, would she relinquish him. What! never! ah! she was not so sure of that. _Some one else_, even before his own people, might come to take little Roy away--some one who once already had visited this cellar. Before his call there was no resistance possible. With one magic touch, this great, awful, and mysterious _some one_ would close the blue eyes and still the baby heart and--yes--yes--yes--break her heart for ever. A few big, heavy tears fell from her eyes at the terrible thought, but she wiped them away, dreading to disturb the sleeping child. It was evening when little Roy awoke, and Hannah perceived with fresh terror that there was another change in him. He looked at her without a shade or gleam of recognition; he no longer called her red face pretty; he screamed at the sight of it, and cried often and wildly for Faith, who Hannah hoped he had forgotten. "Fate, Fate, come to 'Oy. 'Oy want 'oo vevy much, vevy much." Hannah was at her wit's end. She no longer feared discovery. She laid the child on the bed, and, pulling out the box which was hidden underneath, she took out again his little blue frock, his pretty shoes, and white pinafore. These she dressed him in, and he was pleased for the minute, and stroked the white pinafore, and called it "Pitty, pitty." There came a knock at the door as she fastened the button into the last little shoe. "Dat's Fate knocking," said little Roy, raising his eyes solemnly to her face.