‘Oh! it is Green,’ I said, recollecting myself - ‘only Green,’ and I went on, intending to send somebody else to open it; but the knock was repeated: not loud, and still importunately. I put the jug on the banister and hastened to admit him myself. The harvest moon shone clear outside. It was not the attorney. My own sweet little mistress sprang on my neck sobbing, ‘Ellen, Ellen! Is papa alive?’

‘Yes,’ I cried: ‘yes, my angel, he is, God be thanked, you are safe with us again!’

She wanted to run, breathless as she was, up-stairs to Mr. Linton’s room; but I compelled her to sit down on a chair, and made her drink, and washed her pale face, chafing it into a faint colour with my apron. Then I said I must go first, and tell of