"To-morrow morning at four!" he whispered to Aunt Lucy, as he pressed
her hand in the darkness.




VII.

PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY.


Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet for the last time. For the
last time! There is sadness in the thought, even when the future which
lies before us glows with brighter colors than the past has ever worn.
But to Paul, whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and who was about
to part with the only friend who felt an interest in his welfare, this
thought brought increased sorrow.

He stood before the dirt-begrimed window through which alone the
struggling sunbeams found an inlet into the gloomy little attic,
and looked wistfully out upon the barren fields that surrounded the
poorhouse. Where would he be on the morrow at that time? He did not
know. He knew little or nothing of the great world without, yet his
resolution did not for an instant falter. If it had, the thought of Mrs.
Mudge would have been enough to remove all his hesitation.

He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few minutes brought him that
dreamless sleep which comes so easily to the young.