the rest. Sometimes I used to think to myself,
maybe it was true the place was not healthy, or
that, at all events, it did not suit us. But
where to go? How could we two, I a girl of
twenty, Willie but eighteen, leave this, our own
place, that we had never been away from since
we were born, and go out to seek a home in the
wide, wide world? Still, was I to see my
Willie perish before my eyes, without even an
attempt to see if a change might not save
him?

So one night, when we were sitting alone and
silent over the fire—we seldom talked much,
for, as you may suppose, we had rarely much
that was new or pleasant to talk about—and I
was listening to that drip, drip, that I have said
was so dreary, I ventured to open the subject.
I took Willie's soft thin hand, and put it
against my cheek, and held it there, looking into
the fire while I spoke.

"Willie, dear, how it rains."

"It always rains, I think," he said.

"Well, I do believe it rains more here than
in most other places. I'm afraid it rains too
much to be very healthy."

"Oh, there's no harm in the rain, if it wasn't
so dreary."

"But sometimes I'm afraid there is harm in
it, and in the damp. I do think it hasn't agreed
with us all."

"Oh, it wasn't that. A place we've been
used to all our lives can't disagree with us.
And if it did, where else could we go to?"

"There's the question. But I do think we
ought to try to get a little change."

But Willie wouldn't hear of it then, so the
matter dropped for the moment. Poor dear, he
hated change or movement, or the sight of
strangers, so that I could not find it in my
heart to urge him. Besides, I had another
reason, a foolish one, perhaps, but still it was so.
We had determined together, when we were
first left alone in the world, that henceforth we
were to be all in all to each other. We would
never marry, nor go out into society, nor be
separated for one week, but live and die
together.

Now, I thought, perhaps if I press it upon
him, he may think I am speaking for myself;
that it is I who want change, and another life,
and other companionship than his.

And so the time went by, and I could see that
my Willie's little strength and spirit were going
with it, and in my own mind I resolved something
should be done, and ere long what the
thing should be.

Willie's godfather lived in Rockminster,
which was about nine miles from us, and in a
higher and drier part of the country. He was
a banker there, a kind man, and well to do, and
was about the only person who had continued
to remember much about us, and take an interest
in us. It was our own fault that more persons
did not do so, for when we were left alone,
many, even of those we hardly knew, came to
see us, and offered their services, and asked us
to their houses. But we were shy and sad, and
unused to strangers, and shrunk from them.
So these good people, seeing it was no use
to notice us, left us alone. But Mr. Heath
would not be put off so. He had known my
dear father when they were both boys, and his
position with regard to Willie made him feel
that he had a duty and a right as respected him.
Still, though he came to see us as often as he
could, and was anxious that Willie should take
some occupation that would draw him into a
more active mode of life, and bring him in
contact with more people, he, in the face of Willie's
constant objection to any change, by degrees
left off urging him. For Willie, like many quiet
people, was very determined when he took a
resolution, and even I always approached any
difficult subject with much diffidence and many
precautions.

However, on this occasion I resolved to see
what was to be done with Mr. Heath to get
Willie into a new sphere, where both body and
mind might be brought into more healthy action.
For it wore my life out to see him, day after
day, doing nothing but hanging about the place,
in and out, in and out, weary, listless, and hopeless.
Besides, too, he had taken to smoking a
great deal more than was good for him, and I
wanted to put a check on that.

So I wrote to good Mr. Heath, laying before
him all my cares, and desires, and perplexities,
but requesting him not to let Willie know I had
done so. It was the first secret I ever had
from my darling boy, and when I went out to
post my letter myself in the village, and he,
sitting in front of the door smoking, and
occasionally throwing a stone at a sparrow, asked me
where I was off to, I felt like a guilty creature
being found out.

Two days after, Mr. Heath came over. Before
he had been many minutes in the house, he
opened the business. He told Willie that he
was in want of, not exactly a clerk in the bank,
but a young man of a superior position in life,
a gentleman, in short, in whom, he could have
perfect confidence, to employ in copying letters
and other light work. The duties were very
trifling; the salary, to begin, would be a hundred
a year; he should live with his own family, if
he liked, and he pointed out all the advantages
of the scheme, and the pleasures of this new life
in such glowing terms, that I could see Willie,
for once, was shaken. "But the farm," Willie
said, "and the house, and Bessie?"

"Why, you'll let the farm and the house for
a good sum. I know a man who would be
extremely likely to take them; and, as to Bessie,
she would come and live in Rockminster, and
you could, if you preferred it, live with her.
What does Bessie say?"

Hitherto Bessie, listening with all her ears,
had said nothing, knowing that it was better to
let Mr. Heath have his say out ere she chimed
in. Now, however, I, as if this was the first I
had heard of it, said as calmly as I could, that I
really thought the affair was well worthy of
consideration, and that I, for my part, could see no
objection. However, Willie, half inclined, but