Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles. Henry Wood

their skill. He was a little man, quiet in movement, pale and sedate in feature, dry and unsympathising in manner.

      "Thee art in trouble, friend, I hear," he said, placing a chair for Jane, whilst Patience came and called the children away. "It is sad for thee."

      "In great trouble," answered Jane. "I came in to ask if you would serve me in my trouble. I fancy perhaps you can do so if you will."

      "In what way, friend?"

      "Would you interest yourself for me with Mr. Ashley? He might listen to you. Were he assured that the money would be forthcoming in February, I think he might agree to give me time."

      "Friend, I cannot do this," was the reply of the Quaker. "My relations with Thomas Ashley are confined to business matters, and I cannot overstep them. To interfere with his private affairs would not be seemly; neither might he deem it so. I am but his servant, remember."

      The words fell upon her heart as ice. She believed it her only chance—some one interceding for her with Mr. Ashley. She said so.

      "Why not go to him thyself, friend?"

      "Would he hear me?" hastily asked Jane. "I am a stranger to him."

      "Thee art his tenant. As to hearing thee, that he certainly would. Thomas Ashley is of a courteous nature. The poorest workman in our manufactory, going to the master with a grievance, is sure of a patient hearing. But if thee ask me would he grant thy petition, there I cannot inform thee. Patience opines that thee, or thy intentions, may have been falsely represented to him. I never knew him resort to harsh measures before."

      "When would be the best time to see him? Is it too late to-night?"

      "To-night would not be a likely time, friend, to trouble him. He has not long returned from a day's journey, and is, no doubt, cold and tired. I met James Meeking driving down as I came home; he had left the master at his house. They have been out on business connected with the manufactory. Thee might see him in the morning, at his breakfast hour."

      Jane rose and thanked the Quaker. "I will certainly go," she said.

      "There is no need to say to him that I suggested it to thee, friend. Go as of thy own accord."

      Jane went home with her little girl. Their undesirable visitor looked out at the study door, and began a battle about supper. It ought to comprise, in his opinion, meat and beer. He insisted that one of the boys should go out for beer. Jane steadily refused. She was tempted to tell him that the children of a gentleman were not despatched to public-houses on such errands. She offered him the money to go and get some for himself.

      It aroused his anger. He accused her of wanting to get him out of the house by stratagem, that she might lock him out; and he flung the pence back amongst them. Janey screamed, and Gar burst out crying. As Patience had said, he was not a pleasant inmate. Jane ran upstairs, and the children followed her.

      "Where is he to sleep?" inquired William.

      It is a positive fact that, until that moment, Jane had forgotten all about the sleeping. Of course he must sleep there, though she had not thought of it. Amidst the poor in her father's parish in London, Jane had seen many phases of distress; but with this particular annoyance she had never been brought into contact. However, it had to be done.

      What a night that was for her! She paced her room nearly throughout it, with quiet movement, Janey sleeping placidly—now giving way to all the dark appearances of her position, to uncontrollable despondency; now kneeling and crying for help in her heartfelt anguish.

      Morning came; the black frost had gone, and the sun shone. After breakfast Jane put on her shawl and bonnet.

      Mr. Ashley's residence was very near to them—only a little higher up the road. It was a large house, almost a mansion, surrounded by a beautiful garden. Jane had passed it two or three times, and thought what a nice place it was. She repeatedly saw Mr. Ashley walk past her house as he went to or came from the manufactory: she was not a bad reader of countenances, and she judged him to be a thorough gentleman. His face was a refined one, his manner pleasant.

      She found that she had gone at an untoward time. Standing before the hall door was Mr. Ashley's open carriage, the groom standing at the horse's head. Even as Jane ascended the steps the door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Ashley were coming forth. Feeling terribly distressed and disappointed, she scarcely defined why, Jane accosted the former, and requested a few minutes' interview.

      Mr. Ashley looked at her. A fair young widow, evidently a lady. He did not recognise her. He had seen her before, but she was in a different style of dress now.

      Mr. Ashley raised his hat as he replied to her. "Is your business with me pressing? I was just going out."

      "Indeed it is pressing," she said; "or I would not think of asking to detain you."

      "Then walk in," he returned. "A little delay will not make much difference."

      Opening the door of a small sitting-room, apparently his own, he invited her to a seat near the fire. As she took it, Jane untied the crape strings of her bonnet and threw back her heavy veil. She was as white as a sheet, and felt choking.

      "I fear you are ill," Mr. Ashley remarked. "Can I get you anything?"

      "I shall be better in a minute, thank you," she panted. "Perhaps you do not know me, sir. I live in your house, a little lower down. I am Mrs. Halliburton."

      "Oh, I beg your pardon, madam; I did not remember you at first. I have seen you in passing."

      His manner was perfectly kind and open. Not in the least like that of a landlord who had just put a distress into his tenant's house.

      "I have come here to beseech your mercy," she began in agitation. "I have not the rent now, but if you will consent to wait until the middle of February, it will be ready. Oh, Mr. Ashley, do not oppress me for it! Think of my situation."

      "I never oppressed any one in my life," was the quiet rejoinder of Mr. Ashley, spoken, however, in a somewhat surprised tone.

      "Sir, it is oppression. I beg your pardon for saying so. I promise that the rent shall be paid to you in a few weeks: to force my furniture from me now, is oppression."

      "I do not understand you," returned Mr. Ashley.

      "To sell my furniture under the distress will be utter ruin to me and my children," she continued. "We have no resource, no home; we shall have to lie in the streets, or die. Oh, sir, do not take it!"

      "But you are agitating yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Halliburton. I have no intention of taking your furniture."

      "No intention, sir!" she echoed. "You have put in a distress."

      "Put in a what?" cried he, in unbounded surprise.

      "A distress. The man has been in since yesterday morning."

      Mr. Ashley looked at her a few moments in silence. "Did the man tell you where he came from?"

      "It was Mr. Dare who put him in—acting for you. I went to Mr. Dare, and he kept me waiting nearly five hours in his outer office before he would see me. When he did see me, he declined to hear me. All he would say was, that I must pay the rent or he should take the furniture: acting for Mr. Ashley."

      A strangely severe expression darkened Mr. Ashley's face. "First of all, my dear lady, let me assure you that I knew nothing of this, or it should never have been done. I am surprised at Mr. Dare."

      Could she fail to trust that open countenance—that benevolent eye? Her hopes rose high within her. "Sir, will you withdraw the man, and give me time?"

      "I will."

      The revulsion of feeling, from despair and grief, was too great. She burst into tears, having struggled against them in vain. Mr. Ashley rose and looked from the window; and presently she grew calmer. When he sat down again she gave him the outline of her situation; of her present dilemma; of her hopes—poor hopes that they were!—of getting a scanty living through letting her rooms and doing some sewing, or by other employment. "Were I to lose my furniture, it would take from me this only chance," she concluded.

      "You shall not lose it through me," warmly spoke Mr. Ashley.