I became like a brother to her, and she like a sister to me. Neither knew how the other lived, neither asked; and when we were specially unfortunate we wandered by instinct to a certain street, and met by premeditated chance. Then we would talk together for hours, or sit in silence in the shadow of a friendly refuge. She told me her story--a pitiful story, but common: it hardened me the more. I never saw her face by daylight; a dark shadow encompassed her and her history. "I am so tired of life!" she said to me; "these stones must be happier than I, for they cannot feel. Would it be wrong to die?" I drove the thought from her mind. "Be brave, and play your part," I said aloud, and added mentally, "It will not be for long." I can hear now the faint echo of her dreary laugh at my words, and the strangely-pitiful tone in which she repeated, "Be brave, and play my part!" I knew she would not live long; a desperate cold had settled on her lungs, and her cough, as we walked the desolate streets or sat in them after midnight, was a sound to cause the stars to weep. She died in my arms during one of these wanderings. I had no special foreboding of her death, nor had she, I believe; she was seized with a violent fit of coughing, and she clung to me, as she had often done, for support, then suddenly she fell to the ground, and I saw blood coming from her mouth. "Don't leave me," she sighed, almost with her last breath; "you can do me no good. Thank God it is over!" An inquest was held, and I gave evidence. Necessarily some particulars concerning my own mode of life came out, and after the inquest a man offered me money. I rejected it; I had resolved never to accept charity. The man was surprised; questioned me; and learning that I was willing to work, offered me employment. I remained with him long enough to clothe myself decently and to save a little money, and then I turned my back upon a place which had become hateful to me. It must have been a rumour of my connection with the poor girl who died in my arms that was twisted to my discredit in my native town, and it was your mention of it that has caused me to drift into details which, when I commenced, I had no intention of relating.' CHAPTER XIX. STRANGE REVELATIONS IN UNCLE BRYAN'S LIFE.