"And before you took to this kind of life," said the baronet, strangely interested in this vagrant girl; "how did you get your living before then?" "I lived with my father," answered the girl, in an altered tone. "Have you finished your questions?" She shuddered slightly, and rose from her crouching attitude. The moon still shone upon her face, intensifying its deathlike pallor. "See," said her unknown questioner, "here are a couple of sovereigns. You need not wander into the open country to look for an empty barn. You can procure shelter at some respectable inn. Or stay, it is close upon midnight: you might find it difficult to get admitted to any respectable house at such an hour. You had better come with me to my hotel yonder, the 'Star'--the landlady is a kind-hearted creature, and will see you comfortably lodged. Come!" The girl stood before Sir Oswald, shivering in the bleak wind, with a thin black shawl wrapped tightly around her, and her dark brown hair blown away from her face by that bitter March wind. She looked at him with unutterable surprise in her countenance. "You are very good," she said; "no one of your class ever before stepped out of his way to help me. Poor people have been kind to me--often--very often. You are very good." There was more of astonishment than pleasure in the girl's tone. It seemed as if she cared very little about her own fate, and that her chief feeling was surprise at the goodness of this fine gentleman. "Do not speak of that," said Sir Oswald, gently; "I am anxious to get you a decent shelter for the night, but that is a very small favour. I happen to be something of a musician, and I have been much struck by the beauty of your voice. I may be able to put you in the way of making good use of your voice." "Of my voice!" The girl echoed the phrase as if it had no meaning to her. "Come," said her benefactor, "you are weary, and ill, perhaps. You look terribly pale. Come to the hotel, and I will place you in the landlady's charge." He walked on, and the girl walked by his side, very slowly, as if she had scarcely sufficient strength to carry her even that short distance. There was something strange in the circumstance of Sir Oswald's meeting with this girl. There was something strange in the sudden interest which she had aroused in him--the eager desire which he felt to learn her previous history. The mistress of the "Star Hotel" was somewhat surprised when one of the waiters summoned her to the hall, where the street-singer was standing by Sir Oswald's side; but she was too clever a woman to express her astonishment. Sir Oswald was one of her most influential patrons, and Sir Oswald's custom was worth a great deal. It was, therefore, scarcely possible that such a man could do wrong.