'I am not very far from home now, sir,' said the young woman
hesitatingly. She thought, perhaps, that I might leave her, now Wyatt
had disappeared.
'Pray go on, then,' I said; 'I will see you safe there, though
somewhat pressed for time.'
We walked side by side, and after awhile she said in a low tone, and
with still downcast eyes: 'My mother lived servant in your family
once, sir.'
'The deuce! Your name is Ransome, then, I suspect.'
'Yes, sir--Mary Ransome.' A sad sigh accompanied these words. I pitied
the poor girl from my heart, but having nothing very consolatory to
suggest, I held my peace.
'There is mother!' she cried in an almost joyful tone. She pointed to
a woman standing in the open doorway of a mean dwelling at no great
distance, in apparently anxious expectation. Mary Ransome hastened
forwards, and whispered a few sentences to her mother, who fondly
embraced her.
'I am very grateful to you, sir, for seeing Mary safely home. You do
not, I daresay, remember me?'
'You are greatly changed, I perceive, and not by years alone.'
'Ah, sir!' Tears started to the eyes of both mother and daughter.
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