clasped in her arms and her head resting against his. She felt
instinctively that her fate was being sealed upstairs. Indeed a few
words which had passed between Grant and the housekeeper, and which she
had accidentally overheard, assured her that such would be the case.

"If Mrs. Rushton has left her nothing," said Grant, "she'll be out on
the world again, as she was before. Mrs. Kane may take her, unless the
gentlemen do something for her."

"Mr. Enderby will never allow her to go back to poor Anne Kane," said
the housekeeper. "There's many a cheap way of providing for a friendless
child, and it wouldn't be fair to put her on a woman that can hardly
keep her own little home together."

Hetty's anguish was unspeakable as these words sank into her heart, each
one making a wound. She shuddered at the thought of going back to Mrs.
Kane, but felt even more horror of those unknown "cheap ways of
providing for a friendless child," alluded to by the housekeeper. A
perfect sea of tribulation rolled over her head as she bent it in
despair, and wept forlornly on Scamp's comfortable neck.

In the meantime, as Hetty surmised, her fate was being decided upstairs.
No provision had been made by Mrs. Rushton for the child whom she had
taken into her home, petted and indulged, and accustomed to every
luxury. The relations of Mrs. Rushton's late husband, who lived at a
great distance and had not been on intimate terms with her, were not
much impressed by the lady's carelessness of Hetty. But Mr. Enderby, who
knew all the circumstances, felt that a wrong had been done.

"Some provision ought to be made for the child," he said; "that is a