So saying she rings a bell and Marshland appears, looking very different to when we last saw her, in her black dress and clean cap and apron. Having stuck to Helen in the hour of trial she now finds herself the much-respected nurse of little Nellie. Nellie having departed to the upper regions, Helen once more resumes her writing, this time by the aid of a large standing lamp. By and bye a servent enters with some tea. "Is Mr. Lincarrol in yet?" enquires Helen. "No m'am I think not" replies the servent. "oh then I shant expect him till late" answers Helen and so saying she partakes of her tea alone, which done she goes to the piano and plays a few merry sonatas. At length the clock strikes seven, and Helen is about to go and dress for dinner, when the butler enters with the message that a woman from the village of Huntsdown (5 miles distant) wishes to see her at once on a very important matter. "Who is the woman?" askes Helen in great astonishment. "I dont know mum" replies the butler "she is very poor-looking and says she's tramped all the way from Huntsdown to see you, but she wont give no name." "How extraordinary!" says Helen, "I know no one living in Huntsdown, in fact I have only been there once; but however I will go and see the poor soul." and rising as she speaks Helen vanishes into the hall. An old woman of about 60 or 70 is standing in a remote corner of the hall. The butler had spoken truthfully when he said the woman was poor looking. She wears a tattered dress of some faded hue, and on the top of that a man's coat, which might once have been black but is now almost bottle-green. A thin shawl coveres her shoulders and a battered black bonnet hangs back from her head. Her iron-grey hair is streaming over her face, still damp with the falling snow. "Did you wish to speak to me" asks Helen kindly advancing to the woman. "I do mum" replies the poor creature, dropping a bob-curtsey as she speaks, "I've bin tramping from Huntsdown since 4 o'clock and bin nearly turned back with the snow." "What is your name," enquires Helen. "Mrs. Cotton, if you please mum" answers the woman, "but to get on with my story, you must know I live at "The Jolly Dutchman" in Huntsdown. My husband keeps the inn, but he dont do much bussiness; the place is so remote-like, and I'm afraid he's a bad lot," and here Mrs. Cotton shook her head regretfully "but to come to the point mum, a week or so ago, a poor man all ragged and looking terribly ill, come to the door and asked if we could let him in to sleep the night, as he'd no were to go and no money. My husband was drunk at the time and turned the poor man away in spite of my pleading for him. A few minutes later when my husband was in the bar I opened the door and seeing the poor man there I could not resist letting him in. So according I gave him the attic at the top of the 'ouse, where he has bin laying ill ever since without my 'usband knowing."