Ann, who had been accustomed to open air and freedom, wondered how she would live there; but she did not oppose her mother. On the contrary, she fell in with her views, and for the next day or two they were busy moving what furniture was necessary from the great house to the poor lodging. Ann thought of many things, and her activity was very great. She piled up the linen, she took all she imagined could possibly be for their comfort; but her heart sank as she went up those narrow stairs, meeting ever and again strange faces of men and women such as she had never looked on before. To her it was an ugly life: would anything make it beautiful? She never thought of that; she only knew she had to live in the midst of it, and she prayed for strength to do her duty.
Sometimes for days together she never saw her mother. She wondered where she was, until at last Reginald told her that the governor had sent for her. It came to pass that when Mistress Newbolt ceased to go amongst the prisoners they had become insubordinate and had clamoured for her. Therefore the governor besought her to renew her work amongst them, for it meant a certain amount of peace, which no one else could secure, and she answered him:
"I was waiting for your call, sir; God told me it would come. I am ready."
So Ann was left alone in the upper part of the strange house, with only an old woman whom she had taken to help her in the work, for her mother would have no servants. The old woman lived in the same house in a garret, and she had no belongings. The neighbours said that in winter time she was well-nigh starving, but in the summer she hawked flowers in the street, and sometimes fruit.
"You will do that no longer," said Ann. "I will feed you, and you will do the rough work for me while my mother is out."
Thus it was arranged. At first Ann would send her marketing--she was herself afraid of being alone in the streets--but gradually, as she grew familiar with her new life, she ceased to do this, and went out herself to make her purchases. The air did her good, and, as her mother gave her but little money, she had to be economical.
One day, as she and Reginald were walking down Drury Lane, she asked: "Where has all our father's fortune gone?"
"Our mother is spending it," he answered. "There are the rents of Newbolt Manor; she gets them all. I went to see our lawyer the other day. He told me that by my father's will everything went to our mother, unconditionally. She is mistress of everything; we are dependent upon her."
"It is not right," said Ann; "we shall be beggars."
"I am afraid we shall," said Reginald, "but it cannot be helped. You will care for our mother; I, as best I can, will care for you both; but the glory is gone out of my life."