always you as I thought most of, and I want to keep you by me—I do, Clara. You won’t speak about goin’ away?”
She remained mute. Shadows from the firelight rose and fell upon the walls of the half-darkened room. It was a cloudy morning; every now and then a gust flung rain against the window.
“If you went,” he continued, huskily, “I should be afraid o’ myself. I haven’t told you. I didn’t behave as I’d ought to have done to the poor mother, Clara; I got into drinkin’ too much; yes, I did. I’ve broke myself off that; but if you was to leave me I’ve had hard things to go through. Do you know the Burial Club broke up just before she died? I couldn’t get not a ha’penny! A lot o’ the money was stolen. You may think how I felt, Clara, with her lyin’ there, and I hadn’t got as much as would pay for a coffin. It was Sidney Kirkwood found the money,—he did! There was never man had as good a friend as he’s been to me; I shall never have a chance of pay in’ what I owe
