"He shall kill me first, Mittie. But you needn't be afraid. Slade is here, and the bull is frightened of the light."
"God sent you, didn't He?" came in an unexpected whisper, amid the sobs and shivers which the child had no power to control. "I thought— thought He would! Sweet cousin Hermione—you are so—so kind!"
"You'd best let me carry her, Miss," Slade said gravely.
No; Hermione could not resolve to unloose those little clinging arms. Her heart ached with bitter self-reproach at this loving response after all her past coldness. She was very strong, and Mittie was so small and slight. Hermione lifted her off the wet grass, and held her firmly, accepting such help as Slade could give, but refusing to part with the child. Mittie's cold face lay on her shoulder, and more than one tear fell upon it.
"Cousin Hermione, are you crying?" asked Mittie wonderingly. "Oh, I know you're tired. Mayn't I walk? Why, cousin Hermione, I didn't ever think you cared one scrap for me. Sweet cousin Hermione, I do love you so."
Hermione almost felt as if her heart would break under the childish tender words, coming so soon after the sharp stab of terrible truth given by the mother.
[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
GIVING IN.
A WEEK later Julia came home. The day before, she had a letter from Francesca, which she re-read carefully in the carriage on her way back. Part of it ran as follows:—
"You will find things different in certain respects, not altogether disagreeable respects. I told you about Hermione finding poor Mittie on the wall, and actually carrying her part of the way home, with Slade there by her side. Why she couldn't let Slade do it passes my comprehension, but I suppose Hermione always must do things after her own fashion, unlike other people. Anyhow, she is oddly changed since that day. I must confess that I did for once speak out, when I found how she had been neglecting that poor child, and I gave her a good piece of my mind. She didn't say a word in answer, only turned so pale that really I almost thought she meant to treat me to a fainting fit by way of mild revenge. So perhaps the shot told. If so, I'm sure it is not to be regretted."