'
'Where are you going now, may I ask?'
'Into the city--on business,' he added with a smile.
'There will be nobody there so late.'
'Nobody! One would think you were the beadle of a city church, Mr.
Gordon.'
We came into a very narrow, dirty street. I do not know where it
is. A slatternly woman advanced from an open door, and said,
'Mr. Falconer.'
He looked at her for a moment.
'Why, Sarah, have you come to this already?' he said.
'Never mind me, sir. It's no more than you told me to expect. You
knowed him better than I did. Leastways I'm an honest woman.'
'Stick to that, Sarah; and be good-tempered.'
'I'll have a try anyhow, sir. But there's a poor cretur a dyin'
up-stairs; and I'm afeard it'll go hard with her, for she throwed a
Bible out o' window this very morning, sir.'
'Would she like to see me? I'm afraid not.'
'She's got Lilywhite, what's a sort of a reader, readin' that same
Bible to her now.'
'There can be no great harm in just looking in,' he said, turning to
me.
'I shall be happy to follow you--anywhere,' I returned.
'She's awful ill, sir; cholerer or summat,' said Sarah, as she led
the way up the creaking stair.
We half entered the room softly. Two or three women sat by the
chimney, and another by a low bed, covered with a torn patchwork
counterpane, spelling out a chapter in the Bible. We paused for a
moment to hear what she was reading. Had the book been opened by
chance, or by design? It was the story of David and Bathsheba.
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