"He trusted you, Kate, and spoke kindly of you at the last. But I must tell you about it another time. By-the-bye, I have a present for you, from him, at the office, which you may as well get at once."
"For me!" exclaimed Kate. "And did he really think of me? I can wait for the present, sir, thank you. But the Reardons were friends of his—if you could help them, sir. They've sold all there is to sell, and the poor little children are pinched for want of food."
Mr. Heighington happened to have a particular engagement that day. But he told Kate that he would go at once, and endeavour to put it off; and that she was to wait for him at the office, and afterwards accompany him to the Reardons, and show him where they lived.
"You won't be long, sir?" asked the girl, anxiously.
"Not a moment longer than I can help," was the reply.
Nor was he; for by the time that Kate had admired and put on the warm woollen shawl which Peter Marshall, with his usual thoughtful kindness, had desired might be given her, together with a neat bonnet, the present of the good housekeeper, Mr. Heighington had returned.
Let us precede them, and glance for a moment into that cheerless and dismantled home. All that there was to sell, as Kate said, had been sold, save the bed on which the sick man lay, for whose death the landlord only waited to turn the poor widow and her helpless little ones adrift in the world.
The ravens brought nothing now, save an occasional loaf of bread, or a little milk for the children. The few sticks had been gathered, and the last meal dressed, so that it only remained to eat it together and die. The barrel of meal had wasted, and the cruse of oil failed, while the faith of the poor weary wife and mother waxed dim and feeble.
The little children had grown pale, and thin, and hollow-eyed, but they never complained.
"The wolf has got in at last, Bess!" said the dying man, as she stood by the bedside.