“This unfortunate young woman is known to me. I take her into my service, with her consent and approval, and make myself responsible for her safe custody. You will greatly oblige me by undertaking the business of the proper interment of these poor remains, and you will apply to me for all professional and sundry charges. I am Mr. Tuke of ‘Delsrop,’ where I am to be seen and held to account for claims both moral and practical.” The doctor gave a stiff bow. “I am acquainted with you by report, sir, and will be happy to honour your instructions. As for the wench, she is of an age to negotiate her own business, and, I trust, to exhibit prudence in the conduct of it.” He looked hard at the other, who saluted very rigidly in response. “You can do her only justice, I am sure,” said he; and bowed once more and turned on his heel. He found the girl prostrate on her knees beside the dead body--sobbing--appealing to it--murmuring broken words of penitence and love. She had moved the napkin from the face, and Tuke saw the cunning still engraved finely about the sightless eyes, and the little close leer of covetousness at the corners of the mouth, which showed a grotesque, clownish distortion of shape in the sooty border that suffocation had painted round it. Knowing what he did, he could not bear to see her thus wasting her heart of affection on the dead, unworthy thing. He stooped, and put his arm about her, and drew the cloth once more over the face. “Come,” he said, and helping her to her feet, pulled off his own great-coat and wrapped it about her shoulders. At that, “No, no!” she whispered. “You will perish of the cold.” “I am going to take you pillion, Betty; and you must clasp your warm hands over my heart and keep it beating for you. That is your charge.” He hurriedly withdrew her and urged her up the road. A little distance off they came upon the two men with the horses. Tuke sprang to his saddle, gave the girl a hand, and pulled her to a seat behind him. “God bless your honour!” cried poor Jim. “What of you, my good fellow?” “What but the Union, master?” “Get up behind my servant. You shall serve your mistress yet.” Betty gasped. “Did you kiss my shoulder, Betty?” No answer. With a light laugh Tuke touched up his horse, and the deadly cold of the night met them full-face as they sped homewards. CHAPTER XXXIX.