"Come," said her benefactor, "you are weary, and ill, perhaps. You look terribly pale. Come to the hotel, and I will place you in the landlady's charge."
He walked on, and the girl walked by his side, very slowly, as if she had scarcely sufficient strength to carry her even that short distance.
There was something strange in the circumstance of Sir Oswald's meeting with this girl. There was something strange in the sudden interest which she had aroused in him—the eager desire which he felt to learn her previous history.
The mistress of the "Star Hotel" was somewhat surprised when one of the waiters summoned her to the hall, where the street-singer was standing by Sir Oswald's side; but she was too clever a woman to express her astonishment. Sir Oswald was one of her most influential patrons, and Sir Oswald's custom was worth a great deal. It was, therefore, scarcely possible that such a man could do wrong.
"I found this poor girl in an exhausted state in the street just now," said Sir Oswald. "She is quite friendless, and has no shelter for the night, though she seems above the mendicant class. Will you put her somewhere, and see that she is taken good care of, my dear Mrs. Willet? In the morning I may be able to think of some plan for placing her in a more respectable position."
Mrs. Willet promised that the girl should be taken care of, and made thoroughly comfortable. "Poor young thing," said the landlady, "she looks dreadfully pale and ill, and I'm sure she'll be none the worse for a nice little bit of supper. Come with me, my dear."
The girl obeyed; but on the threshold of the hall she turned and spoke to Sir Oswald.
"I thank you," she said; "I thank you with all my heart and soul for your goodness. I have never met with such kindness before."
"The world must have been very hard for you, my poor child," he replied, "if such small kindness touches you so deeply. Come to me to-morrow morning, and we will talk of your future life. Goodnight!"
"Good night, sir, and God bless you!"