"And the only home I have also, aunty."
"Oh, well, if you will, you will, I reckon."
"Yes, if I will, I will, and Mr. Clancy shall learn that I have a will."
As Aun' Sheba was departing that morning, Mara followed her into the hallway, and, placing a note in her hand, said, "Give that to Mr. Clancy and to no other. Say nothing to him or to any one else. Do you understand, Aun' Sheba?"
"I does, honey. Wen you talk dataway you'se heah an eyster shoutin' 'fore
Aun' Sheba speak."
Clancy only said, "Thank you," as he thrust a half-dollar into the old woman's hand.
Aun' Sheba laid it on the desk, and remarked with great dignity, "I does some tings widout money."
He paid no heed to her, but read eagerly, "Mr. Clancy—Come this evening.
Mara Wallingford."
With a long breath he thought, "It will be my last chance. I fear it will be useless, but at no future day shall she think in bitterness of heart, 'He might have done more to save me.'"
There was no sudden, involuntary illumination of her face on this occasion when he entered her little parlor, and she could not help noticing that his face was pale. She also saw from his expression that his spirit was as high as hers; that there was not a trace of the lover, eager to plead his cause. "He has pleaded successfully elsewhere," she thought, and, in spite of all other conflicting feelings, she was curious to know what his motive could be in seeking the interview.