“There is only one spot that is quiet.”
“What one?”
“The dead-house.”
I shuddered. “No, not there. See,” said I, and I handed her a piece of gold. “Find me some place and you shall have still more.”
“Well,” she said, hesitatingly, “I have the room where me and my man live. I suppose we could give up that.”
“Take me there, then.”
“Shall I help you carry her?”
“No,” I answered, drawing back my pure Edith from her outstretched hands. “No, I will carry her.”
The woman went on without a word. She led the way back to the low and dismal sheds which lay there like a vast charnel-house, and thence to a low hut some distance away from all, where she opened a door. She spoke a few words to a man, who finally withdrew. A light was burning. A rude cot was there. Here I laid the one whom I carried.
“Come here,” said I, “three times a day. I will pay you well for this.”