The Real Charlotte. 211 



respectability, at the rusty hooks from which she could re- 

 member the portly hams and flitches of bacon hanging ; at 

 the big fire-place where her grandfather's Sunday sirloin 

 used to be roasted. Now cobwebs dangled from the hooks, 

 and the old grate had fallen to pieces, so that the few sods 

 of turf smouldered on the hearthstone. Everything spoke 

 of bygone plenty and present wretchedness. 



Julia put the letter into its envelope again and groaned a 

 long miserable groan. She got up and stood for a minute, 

 staring out of the open door with her hands on her hips, and 

 then went slowly and heavily up the stairs, groaning again 

 to herself from the exertion and from the bhnding headache 

 that made her feel as though her brain were on fire. She 

 went into her room and changed her filthy gown for the 

 stained and faded black rep that hung on the door. From 

 a band-box of tanned antiquity she took a black bonnet that 

 had first seen the light at her mother's funeral, and tied its 

 clammy satin strings with shaking hands. Flashes of light 

 came and went before her eyes, and her pallid face was 

 flushed painfully as she went downstairs again, and finding, 

 after long search, the remains of the bottle of blacking, 

 laboriously cleaned her only pair of boots. She was going 

 out of the house when her eye fell upon the plate from which 

 the ducks had been eating; she came back for it, and, taking 

 it out with her, scattered its contents to the turkeys, me- 

 chanically holdmg her dress up out of the dirt as she did so. 

 She left the plate on the kitchen window-sill, and set slowly 

 forth down the avenue. 



Under the tree by the gate, Billy Grainy was sitting, en- 

 gaged, as was his custom in moments of leisure, in counting 

 the coppers in the bag that hung round his neck. He 

 looked in amazement at the unexpected appearance of his 

 patroness, and as she approached him he pushed the bag 

 under his shirt. 



" Where are ye goin' ? " he asked. 



Julia did not answer ; she fumbled blindly with the bit ot 

 stick that fastened the gate, and, having opened it, went on 

 without attempting to shut it. 



" Where are ye goin' at all ? " said Billy again, his bleared 

 eyes following the unfamiliar outline of bonnet and gown. 



Without turning, she said, " Lismoyle," and as she walked 



