"Don't look till to-morrow mornin'," she said, anxiously, as she
lay back trembling and exhausted.
The breath of the mill! The fires of the world's want and crime
had finished their work on her life,--so! She caught the meaning
of his face quickly.
"It's nothin'," she said, eagerly. "I'll be strong by
New-Year's; it's only a day or two rest I need. I've no tho't o'
givin' up."
And to show how strong she was, she got up and hobbled about to
make the tea. He had not the heart to stop her; she did not want
to die,--why should she? the world was a great, warm, beautiful
nest for the little cripple,-- why need he show her the cold
without? He saw her at last go near the door where old Yare sat
outside, then heard her breathless cry, and a sob. A moment
after the old man came into the room, carrying her, and, laying
her down on the settee, chafed her hands, and misshapen head.
"What ails her?" he said, looking up, bewildered, to Holmes.
"We've killed her among us."
She laughed, though the great eyes were growing dim, and drew his
coarse gray hair into her hand.
"Yoh wur long comin'," she said, weakly. "I hunted fur yoh every
day,--every day."
The old man had pushed her hair back, and was reading the sunken
face with a wild fear.
"What ails her?" he cried. "Ther' 's somethin' gone wi' my girl.
Was it my fault? Lo, was it my fault?"
"Be quiet!" said Holmes, sternly.
"Is it THAT?" he gasped, shrilly. "My God! not that! I can't
bear it!"
Lois soothed him, patting his face childishly.
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