"Well, there, then, I won't say much, my darling; but don't you fret.

You've both done quite right, for there's a pynte beyond which no one can go."

"But if we could win him back to--"

"Make you marry that man Crellock! Oh, my darling, there's no winning him back. I said nothing and stood by you both to let you try, and I was ready to forgive everything; but oh, my pet! I knew how bad it all was from the very first."

"No, no, Thibs, you didn't think him guilty when he was sent out here."

"Think, my dear! No: I knew it, and so did Sir Gordon and Mr Bayle, but for her sake they let her go on believing in him. Oh! my dear, only that there's you here, I want to know why such a man was ever allowed to live."

"Thibs, he is my father," cried Julia angrily.

"Yes, my dear, and there's no changing it, much as I've thought about it."

Julia stood thinking.

"I shall go to him," she said at last, "with you, and tell him why we have left him. I feel, Thibs, as if I must ask him to forgive me, for I am his child."

"You wait a bit, my dear, and then talk about forgiveness by-and-by.

You've got to stay with your poor mother now. Why, if you left her on such an errand as that, what would happen if he kept you, and wouldn't let you come back?"

Julia's eyes dilated, and her careworn face grew paler.

"He would not do that."

"He and that Crellock would do anything, I believe. There, you can't do that now. You've got to sit and watch by her."

"Julia!" came in an excited voice from the next room.

"There, what did I tell you, my dear?" said Thisbe; and she hurried Julia back and closed the door.

"They'll go back and forgive him if he only comes and begs them to, and he'll finish breaking her heart," said Thisbe, as she went down. "Oh, there never was anything so dreadful as a woman's weakness when once she has loved a man. But go back they shall not if I can help it, and what to do for the best I don't know."

She went into the little sitting-room, seated herself, and began rolling her ap.r.o.n up tightly, as she rocked herself to and fro, and all the time kept on biting her lips.

"I daren't," she said. "She would never forgive me if she knew. No, I couldn't."

She went on rocking herself to and fro.

"I will--I will do it. It's right, for it's to save them; it's to save her life, poor dear, and my darling from misery."

She started from her chair, wringing her hands, and with her face convulsed, ending by falling on her knees with clasped hands.

"Oh, please G.o.d, no," she cried, "don't--don't suffer that--that darling child to be dragged down to such a fate. I couldn't bear it. I'd sooner die! For ever and ever. Amen."

She sobbed as she crouched lower and lower, suffering an agony of spirit greater than had ever before fallen to her lot, and then rose, calm and composed, to wipe her eyes.

"I'll do it, and if it's wicked may I be forgiven. I can't bear it, and there's only that before he puts the last straw on."

There was a loud tap at the door just then, evidently given by a hard set of knuckles.

"It's them!" cried Thisbe excitedly; "it's them!" The door was locked and bolted, and she glanced round the room as if in search of a weapon.

Then going to the window, she looked sidewise through the panes, and her hard, angry face softened a little, and she opened the window.

"How did you know I was wanting you to come?"

Tom Porter's hard brown face lit up with delight. "Was you?" he cried; "was you, Thisbe? Lor'! how nice it looks to see you in a little house like this, and me coming to the door; but you might let me in. Are you all alone?"

"Don't you get running your thick head up against a wall, Tom Porter, or you'll hurt it. And now, look here, don't you get smirking at me again in that way, or off you go about your business, and I'll never look at you again."

"But Thisbe, my dear, I only--"

"Don't only, then," she said, in a fierce whisper; "and don't growl like that, or you'll frighten them as is upstairs into thinking it's some one else."

"All right, my la.s.s; all right. Only you are very hard on a man. You was hard at King's Castor, you was harder up at Clerkenwell, while now we're out here rocks is padded bulkheads to you."

"I can't help it, Tom; I'm in trouble," said Thisbe more gently.

"Are you, my la.s.s? Well, let me pilot you out."

"Yes, I think you shall," she said, "I wanted you to come."

"Now, that's pleasant," said Tom Porter, smiling; "and it does me good, for the way in which I wants to help you, Thisbe, is a wonder even to me."

"Oh, yes, I know," she said grimly. "Now then, why did you come?"

"You said you wanted me."

"Yes; but tell me first why you came."

"The Admiral sent me to say that he was waiting for the missus's commands, and might he come down and see her on very partic'lar business? He couldn't write, his hand's all a shake, and he ain't been asleep all night."

"Tell him, and tell Mr Bayle, too, that my mistress begs that she may be left alone for the present. She says she will send to them if she wants their help."

"Right it is," said Tom Porter. "Now then, what did _you_ want along o'

me?"

Thisbe's face hardened and then grew convulsed, and the tears sprang to her eyes. Then it seemed to harden up again, and she took hold of Tom Porter's collar and whispered to him quickly.

"Phe-ew!" whistled Sir Gordon's man.

She went on whispering in an excited way.

"Yes, I understand," he said.

She whispered to him again more earnestly than ever.

"Yes. Not tell a soul--and only if--"