"My poor girl, no one shall beat you. Will you come with me?"

"With you?" repeated Jessica, now fully awake, but still eyeing the

Sister with some suspicion. "Where? Not far?"

"No, not far. But why do you say that? Is there any one you particularly

wish to be near?"

"No," replied Jessica, adding to herself, as the sister of Mercy took

her hand, "but she shall not take me far away from him."

"A roof of thatch is better than that of heaven," is an old Spanish

proverb, and means, doubtless, that the poorest accommodation is better

than none, or that which the streets provide. Jessica, clinging to the

Sister of Mercy's succouring hand, was gently led from the silence of

the streets to the still greater silence of an attic in a quiet byway.

Here, seated by the remains of a small fire in a narrow grate, she

watched with awkward interest, that was much like indifference, the

efforts of her rescuer to revive the dying embers. Soup was warmed for

her, but for a time she refused to take it.

"I am not hungry," she said. "Only tired--so tired! Why did you wake me,

lady?"

"I awoke you because you were unhappy, and it was dangerous for one so

young as you to lie asleep in the streets," replied the meek-eyed woman.

"But you must not call me 'lady'; I am not a lady. Call me 'Sister.'"

"But you are not my sister," said Jessica petulantly. "I haven't any

sister or brother, or father or mother."

"Poor thing!" said the woman, who by this time had made up a bed, plain

enough it is true, but luxurious after the cold doorsteps, and she now

helped Jessica to undress. "Poor thing, you are quite cold; and what are

all these bruises? Ah! why will men be so cruel, when Heaven is so

kind?"

"I don't know," said Jessica, who took the question as directed to

herself. "I don't know anything. Besides, all men ain't cruel. He

wasn't; he was kind--oh, so kind!"

"He--whom?" said the Sister. Then, as the girl did not reply, she looked

hard at her and sighed again.

"Now you will sleep," she said, "Will you kiss me?"

With the impulsiveness of girlhood Jessica threw her arms round the

linen-banded neck and kissed the Sister's pale face."

"Good-night," she said.




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