I followed her down stairs carrying my basket. As I left the Hall, I had just a glimpse of Amabel, flushed with exercise and looking more cheerful than I had seen her for a long time. Oh, for one word. But I dared not linger, and I turned away. Two or three of the men laughed sneeringly as they saw me go forth, and one of them made an insolent remark, whereat Harry, the only footman who had remained behind when Richard left, turned on him and knocked him down into a particularly thorny rosebush. "Take that for your impudence to a young lady!" said he, and then coming to my side. "Let me carry your parcels for you, Miss Corbet!" "Thank you, Harry, but I fear you will get into trouble with my lady, and perhaps lose your place!" "I don't care that for my place!" said Harry, snapping his fingers. "Besides, I have given warning already. I don't care to stay in this house as things go now. I wasn't brought up to such things and I don't care about getting used to 'em." So saying, he fell behind and carried my bundles all the way to the Little House. Mrs. Deborah was in her little garden gathering some late flowers, and she looked up, surprised enough to see me so soon again. Then observing Harry with his load, and perhaps seeing something in my face which told her the story, she opened her arms to me. I fell on her faithful breast, and the anguish which had been rending my heart found a merciful vent in a tempest of tears and sobs. Mrs. Deborah led me into her little parlor, seated me on the sofa, and putting her arms about me, she let me weep my full before she asked me a single question. Then, as I grew calmer by degrees, she drew from me the story of my expulsion from the Hall. "She is a wicked woman, and you are well out of her hands!" said Mrs. Deborah. "As to your character, I do not think you have much to fear upon that score!" "It is not myself that I think about?" I replied. "I would willingly bear all she can inflict, to save Amabel out of her hands." "We must ask God's help for her," said Mrs. Deborah, solemnly. "I know no better way at present—or at any time." "But, oh, Mrs. Deborah, what can Sir Julius be thinking of?" I cried. "How can he let his daughter be so sacrificed?" Mrs. Deborah's brow darkened. "Child, it is the curse of our house," said she abruptly, "that the men should be wholly governed by some woman or other. His father was so before him, as I know to my cost. My father married a second time, and his wife—Julius's mother—so drew his heart away from his elder children that he had hardly a kind word for us, and would have utterly disinherited us had it been in his power. My brother's second wife was not a lady, but she was a kind, good woman and would have been a good friend to the child had she but lived. But it was not God's will." "The question is, what is to be done now!" said I, with a little impatience, I fear.