She gathered together a few things which Griselda might immediately need, and gave them, with the violin, to Brian. The old leather case she would not trust out of her sight, and, hastily putting on her cloak and huge calêche, she said she would follow the boy to John Street.
As they left the house, Zach was peeping out from behind the door, and Brian shook his fist at him.
"I would like to thrash you—you wicked little spy—you!"
But Zach had the gold-pieces in his pocket, and only made a grimace in return to Brian's threatening gesture.
Graves' heart was touched, perhaps, as it had never been touched before, when she saw Griselda lying on the couch, with Norah asleep in her arms.
Griselda was not asleep, and looking up to Graves, said, in a piteous voice:
"Oh, dear Graves, I am alone now!—there is no one belonging to me but this child—we must hold together. Kiss her, Graves—gently, she may wake. Poor, poor little Norah! I have forgotten her in this day's misery. Speak to the kind people here, and ask them to let me stay with them—I can pay them. I can work for them—I was always clever with my needle."
"Here is your box of jewels, my poor dear, I brought them myself; the boy has brought your clothes and a gown for to-morrow."
"You forget, you forget, Graves—I must have a black gown for my father, and—for him—my only love. Oh! Graves—do hearts break? I feel as if mine must break—and that I must die."
Graves struggled in vain with her tears: they chased each other down her furrowed cheeks.