Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer.
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