She came down herself and let him in. She led
the way upstairs, motioned him to a seat, sat down by him, and began to
cry again. She was thoroughly unstrung.
Cartwright was human, and muttered some words of regret that a poor
fellow must do his duty.
"Oh, it is not that," sobbed Phoebe. "I can find the money. I have found
more for him than that, many's the time." Then, drying her eyes, "But
you must know the world, and I dare say you can see how 'tis with me."
"I can," said Cartwright, gravely. "I overheard you and him; and, my
girl, if you take my advice, why, let him go. He is a gentleman skin
deep, and dresses well, and can palaver a girl, no doubt; but bless
your heart, I can see at a glance he is not worth your little finger,
an honest, decent young woman like you. Why, it is like butter fighting
with stone. Let him go; or I will tell you what it is, you will hang for
him some day, or else make away with yourself."
"Ay, sir," said Phoebe, "that's likelier; and if I was to let him go to
prison, I should sit me down and think of his parting look, and I should
fling myself into the water for him before I was a day older."
"Ye mustn't do that anyway. While there's life there's hope.
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