stepping quietly toward them, as if they were just the people she had
expected to see. De Arthenay hailed her as an angel from Heaven; and
yet Abby did not look like an angel.

"Abby!" he cried. "Come here a minute, will you?"

"Good evening, Jacques!" said Abby, in her quiet voice. "Good evening
to you!" she added, speaking kindly to the little stranger. "I was
coming to see if you wouldn't like to step into my house and rest you a
spell. Why, my heart!" she cried, as Marie raised her head at the
sound of the friendly voice, "you're nothing but a child. Come right
along with me, my dear. Alone, are ye, and night coming on!"

"That's right, Abby!" cried De Arthenay, with feverish eagerness.
"Yes, yes, take her home with you and make her comfortable. She is a
stranger, and has no friends, so she says. I--I'll see you in the
morning about her. Take her! take her in where she will be
comfortable, and I'll--"

"I'll pay you well for it," was what he was going to say, but Abby's
quiet look stopped the words on his lips. Why should he pay her for
taking care of a stranger, of whom he knew no more than she did; whom
he had never seen till this moment?--why, indeed! and she was as well
able to pay for the young woman's keep as he was to say the least. All
this De Arthenay saw, or fancied he saw, in Abby Rock's glance. He
turned away, muttering something about seeing them in the morning;
then, with an abrupt bow, which yet was not without grace, he strode
swiftly down the street and took his way home.