"But my husband," she said, wildly, as she looked up, and, for the first time, saw that Mrs Portlock was present. "Oh, auntie, auntie," she wailed, almost in a whisper, as she cast an anxious glance at the sleeping children, "I'm in such trouble, and such grief. What shall I do?" She quitted her uncle's embrace now, to lay her head, with the weariness of a sick child, upon the old lady's breast. "There, there," whispered her aunt, with all the sharp jerkiness of manner gone. "Cheer up a bit, and well see what's to be done. You did quite right to come down. Uncle and I will take care of you and the bairns." "But I must go back directly," said Sage, sitting up and smoothing her hair. "I came down to ask uncle and Mr Mallow to help us, but Mr Mallow is so angry with Cyril that I am almost afraid to go." "Oh, I'll go and have a talk to him, my darling," said the Churchwarden; "and we'll see if we can't set things a bit right. Ah, that's better," he cried, as one of the maids entered with a hot cup of tea. "There, my dear, drink that. Don't wait, Anne." The girl, who was staring open-mouthed, left the room, and, after some persuasion, Sage drank the tea. "I want to tell you, uncle," she cried, after holding her hands for a few moments to her temples, as if her head was confused, and her thoughts wandering away. "I want to tell you all, but I seem to be hearing the rattle of the train in my head, and jolting over the road in that cart, with the children crying with the cold." "But they are fast asleep, and comfortable now, my girl," said the Churchwarden, soothingly. "Suppose you have a nap, and tell us all your trouble later on." "No, no," she cried, "I must tell you now, for I want to get back to Cyril." She stared about so wildly that the Churchwarden and his wife exchanged glances. "Is Cyril at home, then?" said Portlock, as if to help her regain the current of her thoughts. "Home?" she cried. "No: we have no home. Everything has been seized and sold; and we have been changing about from lodging to lodging, for Cyril did not wish to be seen." "Not wish to be seen?" "No, uncle, dear. He said the failure of the firm was so painful to him since Mr Walker's death; and that the representatives of the poor old man had forced the estate into bankruptcy, and were behaving very badly to him." "Humph!" "People have behaved so very, very cruelly to him, and set about such dreadful stories; but you will not believe them, dear? He is my husband, and he has been very, very unfortunate." "Very, my dear," said her uncle, drily. "He has tried so hard," cried Sage, excitedly, "and fought so bravely to make a fortune; but the world has always been against him, do what he would." "Hah, yes," said the Churchwarden, with a sigh. "But if people would be content with a good living, and not want to make fortunes, what trouble would be saved." "Oh, don't: pray don't you turn against him, uncle, dear," sobbed Sage, piteously.