life, and in the great coat and thick worsted
gloves of a wealthy traveller, cast a glance
at the wretched creature trudging heavily
on, expecting a pitiful appeal to his sensibilities,
and thinking it a bore to have to
pull off a glove and dive into his pocket for a
copper; but to his surprise there was no demand,
only a low curtsey, and the glimpse of
a face of singular honesty of expression, and
of excessive weariness.

Spires was a man of warm feelings; he
looked earnestly at the woman, and thought
he had never seen such a picture of fatigue
in his life. He pulled up and said,
   "You seem very tired, my good woman."
   "Awfully tired, Sir."
   "And are you going far to night?"
   "To Great Stockington, Sir, if God give
me strength."
   " To Stockington! " exclaimed Mr. Spires.
"Why you seem ready to drop. You 'll never
reach it. You 'd better stop at the next
village."
   " Ay, Sir, it's easy stopping, for those that
have money."
   " And you 've none, eh?"
   "As God lives, Sir, I've a sixpence, and
that's all."
   Mr. Spires put his hand in his pocket, and
held out to her the next instant, half-a-crown.
   " There stop, poor thing—make yourself
comfortable—it's quite out of the question
to reach Stockington. But stay—are your
friends living in Stockington—what are you?"
   '' A poor soldier's widow, Sir. And may
God Almighty bless you! " said the poor
woman, taking the money, the tears standing
in her large brown eyes as she curtsied very
low.
   "A soldier's widow," said Mr. Spires. She
had touched the softest place in the manufacturer's
heart, for he was a very loyal man,
and vehement champion of his country's
honour in the war. " So young," said he,
"how did you lose your husband?"
   " He fell, Sir," said the poor woman; but
she could get no further; she suddenly caught
rip the corner of her grey cloak, covered her
face with it, and burst into an excess of grief.

The manufacturer felt as if he had hit the
woman a blow by his careless question; he
sate watching her for a moment in silence,
and then said, " Come, get into the gig, my
poor woman; come, I must see you to Stockington."

The poor woman dried her tears, and heavily
climbed into the gig, expressing her gratitude
in a very touching and modest manner. Spires
buttoned the apron over her, and taking a
look at the child, said in a cheerful tone to
comfort her, " Bless me, but that is a fine
thumping fellow, though. I don't wonder
you are are tired, carrying such a load."

The poor woman pressed the stout child,
apparently two years old, to her breast, as if
she felt it a great blessing and no load: the
gig drove rapidly on.

Presently Mr. Spires resumed his conversation.
   "So you are from Stockington? ''
   "No Sir, my husband was."
   " So: what was his name?"
   "John Deg, Sir."
   "Deg? " said Mr. Spires. " Deg, did you say?"
   "Yes, Sir."

The manufacturer seemed to hitch himself
off towards his own side of the gig, gave
another look at her, and was silent. The
poor woman was somewhat astonished at his
look and movement, and was silent too.

After awhile Mr. Spires said again, " And
do you hope to find friends in Stockington?
Had you none where you came from?"
   " None Sir, none in the world! " said the
poor woman, and again her feelings seemed
too strong for her. At length she added, " I
was in service, Sir, at Poole, in Dorsetshire,
when I married; my mother only was living,
and while I was away with my husband, she
died. When—when the news came from
abroad—that—when I was a widow, Sir, I
went back to my native place, and the parish
officers said I must go to my husband's parish
lest I and my child should become troublesome."
   " You asked relief of them?"
   " Never; Oh, God knows, no, never! My
family have never asked a penny of a parish.
They would die first, and so would I, Sir;
but they said I might do it, and I had better
go to my husband's parish at once—and they
offered me money to go."
   " And you took it, of course?"
   " No, sir; I had a little money, which I
had earned by washing and laundering, and I
sold most of my things, as I could not carry
them, and came off. I felt hurt, Sir; my
heart rose against the treatment of the parish,
and I thought I should be better amongst my
husband's friends—and my child would, if
anything happened to me; I had no friends
of my own."

Mr. Spires looked at the woman in silence.
"Did your husband tell you anything of his
friends? What sort of a man was he?"
   " Oh, he was a gay young fellow, rather,
Sir; but not bad to me. He always said his
friends were well off in Stockington."
   " He did! " said the manufacturer, with a
great stare, and as if bolting the words from
his heart in a large gust of wonder.

The poor woman again looked at him with
a strange look. The manufacturer whistled
to himself, and giving his horse a smart cut
with the whip, drove on faster than ever.
The night was fast settling down; it was
numbing cold; a grey fog rose from the river
as they thundered over the old bridge; and
tall engine chimneys, and black smoky houses
loomed through the dusk before them. They
were at Stockington.

As they slackened their pace up a hill at
the entrance of the town, Mr. Spires again
opened his mouth.