He got up and helped her to rise; and they went doggedly down
the muddy street, side by side.

"It's all wrong," he muttered, slowly,--"all wrong! I dunnot
understan'. But it'll end some day."

"Come home, Hugh!" she said, coaxingly; for he had stopped,
looking around bewildered.

"Home,--and back to the mill!" He went on saying this over to
himself, as if he would mutter down every pain in this dull
despair.

She followed him through the fog, her blue lips chattering with
cold. They reached the cellar at last. Old Wolfe had been
drinking since she went out, and had crept nearer the door. The
girl Janey slept heavily in the corner. He went up to her,
touching softly the worn white arm with his fingers. Some
bitterer thought stung him, as he stood there. He wiped the
drops from his forehead, and went into the room beyond, livid,
trembling. A hope, trifling, perhaps, but very dear, had died
just then out of the poor puddler's life, as he looked at the
sleeping, innocent girl,--some plan for the future, in which she
had borne a part. He gave it up that moment, then and forever.
Only a trifle, perhaps, to us: his face grew a shade paler,--
that was all. But, somehow, the man's soul, as God and the
angels looked down on it, never was the same afterwards.

Deborah followed him into the inner room. She carried a candle,
which she placed on the floor, closing the door after her. She