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fell back a little； and was falling fast back； when his illness
came so strong upon him。 I think he has always felt for her。 I am
sure he has。 I have seen him； in his crying fits and tremblings；
try to kiss her hand； and I have heard him call her 〃Meg；〃 and say
it was her nineteenth birthday。 There he has been lying； now；
these weeks and months。 Between him and her baby； she has not been
able to do her old work； and by not being able to be regular； she
has lost it； even if she could have done it。 How they have lived；
I hardly know！'
'I know；' muttered Mr。 Tugby； looking at the till； and round the
shop； and at his wife； and rolling his head with immense
intelligence。 'Like Fighting Cocks！'
He was interrupted by a cry … a sound of lamentation … from the
upper story of the house。 The gentleman moved hurriedly to the
door。
'My friend；' he said； looking back； 'you needn't discuss whether he
shall be removed or not。 He has spared you that trouble； I
believe。'
Saying so； he ran up…stairs； followed by Mrs。 Tugby； while Mr。
Tugby panted and grumbled after them at leisure： being rendered
more than commonly short…winded by the weight of the till； in which
there had been an inconvenient quantity of copper。 Trotty； with
the child beside him； floated up the staircase like mere air。
'Follow her！ Follow her！ Follow her！' He heard the ghostly
voices in the Bells repeat their words as he ascended。 'Learn it；
from the creature dearest to your heart！'
It was over。 It was over。 And this was she； her father's pride
and joy！ This haggard； wretched woman； weeping by the bed； if it
deserved that name； and pressing to her breast； and hanging down
her head upon； an infant。 Who can tell how spare； how sickly； and
how poor an infant！ Who can tell how dear！
'Thank God！' cried Trotty； holding up his folded hands。 'O； God be
thanked！ She loves her child！'
The gentleman； not otherwise hard…hearted or indifferent to such
scenes； than that he saw them every day； and knew that they were
figures of no moment in the Filer sums … mere scratches in the
working of these calculations … laid his hand upon the heart that
beat no more； and listened for the breath； and said； 'His pain is
over。 It's better as it is！' Mrs。 Tugby tried to comfort her with
kindness。 Mr。 Tugby tried philosophy。
'Come； come！' he said； with his hands in his pockets； 'you mustn't
give way； you know。 That won't do。 You must fight up。 What would
have become of me if I had given way when I was porter； and we had
as many as six runaway carriage…doubles at our door in one night！
But； I fell back upon my strength of mind； and didn't open it！'
Again Trotty heard the voices saying； 'Follow her！' He turned
towards his guide； and saw it rising from him； passing through the
air。 'Follow her！' it said。 And vanished。
He hovered round her； sat down at her feet； looked up into her face
for one trace of her old self； listened for one note of her old
pleasant voice。 He flitted round the child： so wan； so
prematurely old； so dreadful in its gravity； so plaintive in its
feeble； mournful； miserable wail。 He almost worshipped it。 He
clung to it as her only safeguard； as the last unbroken link that
bound her to endurance。 He set his father's hope and trust on the
frail baby； watched her every look upon it as she held it in her
arms； and cried a thousand times； 'She loves it！ God be thanked；
she loves it！'
He saw the woman tend her in the night； return to her when her
grudging husband was asleep； and all was still； encourage her； shed
tears with her； set nourishment before her。 He saw the day come；
and the night again； the day； the night； the time go by； the house
of death relieved of death； the room left to herself and to the
child； he heard it moan and cry； he saw it harass her； and tire her
out； and when she slumbered in exhaustion； drag her back to
consciousness； and hold her with its little hands upon the rack；
but she was constant to it； gentle with it； patient with it。
Patient！ Was its loving mother in her inmost heart and soul； and
had its Being knitted up with hers as when she carried it unborn。
All this time； she was in want： languishing away； in dire and
pining want。 With the baby in her arms； she wandered here and
there； in quest of occupation； and with its thin face lying in her
lap； and looking up in hers； did any work for any wretched sum； a
day and night of labour for as many farthings as there were figures
on the dial。 If she had quarrelled with it； if she had neglected
it； if she had looked upon it with a moment's hate； if； in the
frenzy of an instant； she had struck it！ No。 His comfort was； She
loved it always。
She told no one of her extremity； and wandered abroad in the day
lest she should be questioned by her only friend： for any help she
received from her hands； occasioned fresh disputes between the good
woman and her husband； and it was new bitterness to be the daily
cause of strife and discord； where she owed so much。
She loved it still。 She loved it more and more。 But a change fell
on the aspect of her love。 One night。
She was singing faintly to it in its sleep； and walking to and fro
to hush it； when her door was softly opened； and a man looked in。
'For the last time；' he said。
'William Fern！'
'For the last time。'
He listened like a man pursued： and spoke in whispers。
'Margaret； my race is nearly run。 I couldn't finish it； without a
parting word with you。 Without one grateful word。'
'What have you done？' she asked： regarding him with terror。
He looked at her； but gave no answer。
After a short silence； he made a gesture with his hand； as if he
set her question by； as if he brushed it aside； and said：
'It's long ago； Margaret； now： but that night is as fresh in my
memory as ever 'twas。 We little thought； then；' he added； looking
round； 'that we should ever meet like this。 Your child； Margaret？
Let me have it in my arms。 Let me hold your child。'
He put his hat upon the floor； and took it。 And he trembled as he
took it； from head to foot。
'Is it a girl？'
'Yes。'
He put his hand before its little face。
'See how weak I'm grown； Margaret； when I want the courage to look
at it！ Let her be； a moment。 I won't hurt her。 It's long ago；
but … What's her name？'
'Margaret；' she answered； quickly。
'I'm glad of that；' he said。 'I'm glad of that！' He seemed to
breathe more freely； and after pausing for an instant； took away
his hand； and looked upon the infant's face。 But covered it again；
immediately。
'Margaret！' he said； and gave her back the child。 'It's Lilian's。'
'Lilian's！'
'I held the same face in my arms when Lilian's mother died and left
her。'
'When Lilian's mother died and left her！' she repeated； wildly。
'How shrill you speak！ Why do you fix your eyes upon me so？
Margaret！'
She sunk down in a chair； and pressed the infant to her breast； and
wept over it。 Sometimes； she released it from her embrace； to look
anxiously in its face： then strained it to her boso