asleep, closed the door, sat down by the cot, and sat for a while without
moving. Then her countenance began to change, and slowly went on
changing, until at last, as through a mist of troubled emotion, out upon
the strong, rugged face broke, with strange suggestion of a sunset, the
glow of resolve and justified desire. A maid more friendly than the rest
brought her some tea, but Jane said nothing of what had occurred. When
the child awoke, she fed him, and played with him a long time--till he
was thoroughly tired, when she undressed him, and laying him down, set
about preparing his evening meal. No one could have perceived in her any
difference, except indeed it were a subdued excitement in her glowing
eyes. When it was ready, she went to her box, took from it a small
bottle, and poured a few dark-coloured drops into the food.

"God forgive me! it's but this once!" she murmured.

The child seemed not quite to relish his supper, but did not refuse it,
and was presently asleep in her arms. She laid him down, took a book, and
began to read.




CHAPTER III.


_THE FLIGHT._

She read until every sound had died in the house, every sound from garret
to cellar, except the ticking of clock, and the tinkling cracks of
sinking fires and cooling grates. In the regnant silence she rose, laid