"Oh, I beg your pardon, madam; I did not remember you at first. I have seen you in passing."
His manner was perfectly kind and open. Not in the least like that of a landlord who had just put a distress into his tenant's house.
"I have come here to beseech your mercy," she began in agitation. "I have not the rent now, but if you will consent to wait until the middle of February, it will be ready. Oh, Mr. Ashley, do not oppress me for it! Think of my situation."
"I never oppressed any one in my life," was the quiet rejoinder of Mr. Ashley, spoken, however, in a somewhat surprised tone.
"Sir, it is oppression. I beg your pardon for saying so. I promise that the rent shall be paid to you in a few weeks: to force my furniture from me now, is oppression."
"I do not understand you," returned Mr. Ashley.
"To sell my furniture under the distress will be utter ruin to me and my children," she continued. "We have no resource, no home; we shall have to lie in the streets, or die. Oh, sir, do not take it!"
"But you are agitating yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Halliburton. I have no intention of taking your furniture."
"No intention, sir!" she echoed. "You have put in a distress."
"Put in a what?" cried he, in unbounded surprise.