room, and flung his arms round her, and
begged her not to cry, "as now that man was
gone away, they should do very well." That
was the worst sting to his mother's self-
reproach.

Mrs. Salt had committed one grievous
error— an error that swamped the comfort
and respectability of her whole life; but,
like many other women in a similar case, she
endeavoured to atone for it by showing all
manner of patience and good sense in bearing
the consequences. But many small things
do not make up a great one.

As Timothy had taken the last of his
wife's savings, it was necessary to make some
provision for the future, especially as in a
few months she was expecting to become a
mother. She took a little cottage on the
skirts of the common— a mere hovel— and
sold most of her furniture. It cost her a
terrible pang to part with the household
gods which she had worshipped for so many
years with daily offerings of bees'-wax and
turpentine, and kept so bright and shining;
but she was past complaining. She took
Nicholas by the hand, and walked dry-eyed
after the cart, drawn by an ass, which
contained the remnant of her worldly goods.
But worse than all was the fact, that Nicholas
must give up school, and take to some
handicraft. The man who had purchased his
father's business, demanded a fee quite
beyond Mrs. Salt's means; the lad himself
had a predilection for being a carpenter,
but that was beyond her, too; he had not
the strength for a day labourer; so, at last, he
was put with an old basket-maker. He worked
hard, and tried to keep at his lessons as well
as he could. Now that Timothy was fairly
gone, many of the ladies who had withdrawn
their countenance from Mrs. Salt allowed
themselves to be mollified, and sent her their
fine things to wash again. She was able to
keep out of debt, and to lay by a little money
against the time when she should be under
the doctor's hands; which she expected soon
to be.

Opposite to the cottage, but standing afar
off in a stately garden and embowered in
trees, there was a fine old brick mansion,
raised upon a terrace. Here lived an old
lady and her grand-daughter, who might be
about thirteen. She was always dressed in
white, with a blue sash, summer and winter,
and her fair hair curled to her waist. Every
Sunday she and her grandmother went to
church in a chariot and four, driven by an
old coachman with grey hair, that served
him instead of powder; an old serving man
stood behind the chariot, and always stood
at the door to give his arm to the lady, who
was somewhat lame. She passed up the
aisle with a stately step notwithstanding.
She always wore rich black silk garments of
a bygone fashion. Her grand-daughter
followed, holding her prayer-book. The old
lady and young lady had each taken a
strong hold upon the imagination of Nicholas.
He thought the old lady must be a queen,
and the young lady looked like an angel.
Once, in coming out of church, he had tried
to touch the white dress, but unluckily he
trod on the skirt of the old lady's black robe,
and the tone in which she said, "Keep back,
little boy! " had effectually checked any such
attempt for the future. It was one great
compensation to him, when he and his
mother had come to live on the common,
that he should be able to see the little lady
every day walking with her grandmother up
and down the terrace. It was seldom they
went beyond their own gates, except on
Sunday.

No sooner had Mrs. Salt and Nicholas
settled in the cottage, than the old lady sent
her own maid to say, that so long as Mrs,
Salt deserved her countenance she should
have it, and all her fine lawns and laces to
wash. Also, she and Nicholas, after a while,
received gracious permission to walk on
Sunday afternoon in the garden. Sometimes
the old lady condescended to speak to them;
and once her grand-daughter gave Nicholas
a little girl book of her own.

So matters went on till one night in November,
when Nicholas was trying to read by
firelight after his day's work, and Mrs. Salt was
putting up a basket of finery belonging to the
great house, the door was pushed violently
open, and Timothy Salt stood before them,
with the wiry dog at his heels, which directly
began a scuffle with the cat. Nicholas slunk
into a corner, and his mother looked ready to
faint; but Timothy took no notice. He sat
down in his wife's elbow chair by the fire,
took out a short pipe, and after a surly,
"Well, you see I am come back! " he began
to smoke, the dog crept between his legs,
and Mrs. Salt hastily cleared away her
ironing, and began to get ready something to
eat. Nicholas crept off to bed, and cried
himself to sleep. Everything that was dreadful
seemed to have come into the house with
his step-father. He was off to his work
before Timothy was astir the next morning.
At night Timothy asked him roughly where
he had been. Nicholas told him. " Well,
then, you will stop at home and learn what I
teach you, I have other work for you."
Nicholas looked at his mother, who said
nothing, but leaned sadly over her ironing.

Nicholas did not speak.

"What do you mean by sitting there, and
never speaking? If you had any spirit, you
would have gone to see the world long since,
and not stopped there in the chimney corner,
getting lazier and longer every day; but
now I am come back, I will make you do
something, or know why."

Nicholas shrunk further back in the dim
corner : he trembled at the unknown evil
held over him.

"I mean to make a dancer of you, and take
you round to fairs and wakes, and make a