Nell heaved an impatient sigh, but busied herself with the dog; then, when she had made the poor creature as comfortable as she could, she went back to her secret avocations in the loft.
This loft was her refuge, the one place where she was secure from interruption. The roof was open to the shingles, so above, below, and at the sides it was all bare brown wood, without any attempt at adornment of any kind. Window proper there was none, but a hinged shutter in the western gable let in sunshine and fresh air, and, weather permitting, this stood open night and day.
There were no small prettinesses such as may be found in many a chamber belonging to girls who are poor. But, all the same, it did not lack individuality. It was scrupulously clean and well kept, while on a packing-case, standing near the open shutter, were arranged a small pile of books, a bigger heap of newspapers, a bottle of ink, a pen, and a few stumps of pencils.
Here every day Nell did her best to carry on her education, reading everything she could get hold of, and writing extracts from her scanty library on the margins of the newspapers, because she had no writing-paper or exercise books.
She had been hard at work here when her grandfather called her down to attend to the dog, and she went back to her occupation when he had gone away, and she had left Pip as comfortable as circumstances permitted.
But now her attention wandered; the talk about Canada had excited her, while the disappointment about the box was depressing.
Presently she pushed her work aside, and went down the ladder to the lower room. The box containing the things which had belonged to her dead mother stood there. It was only a small box, but strongly made and clamped with iron. Nell had not seen inside it since her father died, but she knew what it contained. There were frocks and coats belonging to her mother, a gold watch and chain, a gold bracelet, and some brooches. The jewelry was of no great value from a monetary point of view, but it was precious beyond price to the girl, whose memory of her mother grew every day more faint and indistinct.
“Just to think that granfer should lose the key, when I wanted it so badly!” she murmured to herself, as she leaned over the box, touching it with caressing fingers.
At that moment the sound of a deep-drawn sigh caught her ear, and lifting her head she saw a strange man standing on the threshold and clinging to the door-frame.