"He resumed his tramping up and down, and I went back to my patient. She beckoned me to come close, and whispered:
"'Save my child! The living one, I mean! Hide her! oh, hide her from him! When he demands the babe, give him the poor little dead one—he cannot hurt that! And he will not know there was another. Oh! hide and save my child!'
"Master, I was used to queer doings, but this was a little the queerest. But if I was to conceal that second child in order to save it, it was necessary to stop its mouth, for it was squalling like a wild cat. So I took a vial of paregoric from my pocket and give it a drop and it went off to sleep like an angel. I wrapped it up warm and lay it along with my shawl and bonnet in a dark corner. Just then the man rapped again.
"'Come in, master,' said I.
"'No, bring me the babe,' he said.
"I took up the dead infant. Its mother kissed its brow and dropped tears upon its little cold face. And I carried it to the man outside.
"'Is it asleep?' the willain asked me.
"'Yes, master,' said I as I put it, well wrapped up, in his arms; 'very sound aslep.'
"'So much the better,' said the knave, walking away.
"I bolted the door and went back to my patient. With her free hand she seized mine and pressed it to her lips and then, holding up her left hand, pointed to the wedding ring upon her third finger.