had seen the look on his face, as he turned away: her own grew
deadly. Yet, as she came up to him, her eyes glowed. He was
seated on an old chest, quiet, holding his face in his hands.

"Hugh!" she said, softly.

He did not speak.

"Hugh, did hur hear what the man said,--him with the clear
voice? Did hur hear? Money, money,--that it wud do all?"

He pushed her away,--gently, but he was worn out; her rasping
tone fretted him.

"Hugh!"

The candle flared a pale yellow light over the cobwebbed brick
walls, and the woman standing there. He looked at her. She was
young, in deadly earnest; her faded eyes, and wet, ragged figure
caught from their frantic eagerness a power akin to beauty.

"Hugh, it is true! Money ull do it! Oh, Hugh, boy, listen till
me! He said it true! It is money!"

"I know. Go back! I do not want you here."

"Hugh, it is t' last time. I'll never worrit hur again."

There were tears in her voice now, but she choked them back: