"Yes, ma'am," he said, "I have, but I'm here, waiting for an early job." She gave him a shilling and a smile--not such a smile as she once had to give, but the best that was left her--and went on to the door of the house she lived in. She opened it with a key, and went in. The boy remained where she had left him, apparently ruminating, and wagging his tousled head sagely. "Whatever is she up to?" he asked of himself, in perplexity, "It's a rum start, as far as I knows on it, and I means to know more. But how is she in it? I shan't say nothing till I knows more about it." And then Mr. Jim Swain went his way to a more likely quarter for early jobs. Fortune favoured Mrs. Routh on that morning. She gained her bed-room unseen and unheard, and having hastily undressed, lay down to rest, if rest would come to her--at least to await in quiet the ordinary hour at which the servant was accustomed to call her. It came, and passed; but Harriet did not rise. She slept a little when all the world was up and busy--slept until the second delivery of letters brought one for her, which the servant took at once to her room. The letter was from George Dallas, and contained merely a few lines, written when he was on the point of starting, and posted at the river-side. He apologized to Harriet for a mistake which he had made on the previous night. He had taken up Routh's coat instead of his own, and had not discovered the error until he was on his way to the steamer, and it was too late to repair it. He hoped it would not matter, as he had left his own coat at South Molton-street, and no doubt Routh could wear it, on an occasion. When Harriet had read this note, she lay back upon her pillow, and fell into a deep sleep, which was broken by Routh's coming into her room early in the afternoon. He looked pale and haggard, and he stood by the bedside in silence. But she--she sat up, and flung her arms round him with a wonderfully good imitation of her former manner; and when she told him all that had passed, her husband caught her to his breast with passionate fondness and gratitude, and declared over and over again that her ready wit and wonderful fortitude had saved him. Saved him? How, and from what? CHAPTER XI. AT POYNINGS.