"Nay, I think I mustn't," replied the pale-looking woman, in a faint and somewhat irresolute tone, catching the wistful glance of her child, and then bending her eyes sorrowfully on the ground. "Why, a golden guinea'll do thee some service," resumed the sweep; "and I'll warrant me, I'll take care o' thy little lad. He shall get plenty to eat and drink,--and I reckon he doesn't get overmuch of ayther with thee." "I get as much as my mammy gets," said the child, adventuring to speak, but looking greatly affrighted. "Why, thou art a tight little rogue," said the chimney sweep, smiling grimly through his soot, "and could run briskly up a chimney, I lay a wager.--Come, give us thy hand, and say thou wilt go with us." The man's attempt at coaxing had a repulsive effect on the child, for he drew back, and trembled lest he should be laid hold of. "Come, I'll make it two guineas," resumed the sweep, again addressing the mother; "and what canst thou do with him, now his father is dead,--as thou saidst when I met thee at Wroot, the other day? Thou wilt be obliged to throw thyself on some parish, soon,--for they'll never suffer thee to go sorning about in this way; and if thou art once in the workhouse, depend on't th' overseers will soon 'prentice the poor little fellow to somebody that may prove a hard master to him, mayhap. Better take my offer, and let him be sure of kind usage." The mother was silent and motionless, and tears began to fall fast, while the sense of her present destitution and fears for the impending future struggled like strong wrestlers, with natural affection:--a fearful antagonism within, of which none but Adversity's children can conceive the reality of the portraiture. "Nay, prythee, do not fret," said the man, with affected pity; and then taking out his begrimed hempen purse under the confident expectation that he was about to gain his point at once from the heart-broken weakness of a woman, added, "Come, come, here's that that will get thee a new gown, and, maybe, put thee in the way of getting on in the world besides." The woman did not put forth her hand to take the proffered price for her child, for her mind was now too deeply distracted to understand the sweep's meaning; or, if she understood him, her frame was now too weak with grief to permit her making any answer. "Oh, mammy, mammy!--do not let the grimy man take me away!" exclaimed the child, bursting into violent weeping, and pulling forcibly at his mother's apron. "What's the matter with your bairn, good woman?" cried the benevolent old Dame Deborah at this moment,--for she had heard too much to be longer a listener, merely;--and the Axholmians were not versed in those refinements of modern society which define a neighbourly and humane interposition to be an act of unmannerly officiousness.