[CHAPTER VIII.]
A LONELY SUFFERER.
MISS GRAHAM did not forget her intention of visiting Mary and discovering the reason of her absence from the Bible-class.
Early in the week, she directed her steps to the narrow street in an obscure quarter of the town where Mary occupied a small room over a greengrocer's shop.
"Is Mary Nelson within?" Miss Graham inquired of an untidy-looking woman, with a face expressive of indolent good-humour, who stood behind the counter of the close little shop, redolent of many odours, that of onions being the most perceptible.
"Yes, miss, she's within certainly, for she can't leave her bed: she's very bad indeed."
"Oh! I am grieved to hear that," exclaimed Miss Graham. "I feared she must be ill. May I go up to her room?"
"Yes, if you please, miss. I'm sure she'll be very thankful to see you, for she's in great trouble, poor girl."
Anxious as the woman's words rendered Miss Graham, she was little prepared to find Mary so ill as she was. Of delicate constitution, and highly susceptible of cold, Mary had been unable to throw off a chill taken on a wet day which had been passed in going about from one place to another in search of employment, and severe inflammation of the lungs was the result. That she was most seriously ill, Miss Graham could not doubt as she looked upon her white, strangely-altered countenance, and met the excited gaze of those usually calm eyes.
"Oh! Miss Graham, is it you?" exclaimed the girl, in a hoarse whisper. "How kind of you to come! I am so glad to see you!"