And then through the woman’s heart there shot a pang as she wondered if she had done right to leave Archie and his child to their poverty all these years.  Might she not have done something for them, and so perhaps have saved the daughter from sin?  The little room at the head of the stairs was still kept just as it was when she was expecting Bessie.  There was the big doll in the corner, the dishes on the shelf, and the single bed with its lace hangings was freshly made every month, and by its side each night the lonely woman knelt and prayed for the little girl who had come to her on the sands and looked into her eyes with a look which had haunted her ever since.  But of what avail was all this?  Ought she not to have acted as well as prayed?  What was faith without works, and if Bessie had gone to destruction, as most likely she had, was it not in part her fault?  Such were the questions tormenting Miss McPherson when at last Winny came in to remove the tea things and brought with her a letter, which she gave into her mistress’ hand.  It was Neil’s letter, and Miss Betsey examined it very carefully before opening it, wondering who had written her from London, and experiencing a feeling that its contents would not prove altogether agreeable.  Adjusting her spectacles a little more firmly on her nose, she opened it at last, and read it through very slowly, taking in its full meaning as she read, and commenting to herself in her characteristic way.

Two years before, she had met an old acquaintance from London, who knew Neil and disliked him, consequently the impression she had received of him was not altogether favorable.

“A good-looking, well-meaning fellow,” the man had said, “but very indolent, and selfish, and proud, with an inordinate love of money, and respect for those who have it.”

And in this opinion the spinster was confirmed by his letter.

“Let me see!” she said, taking off her glasses, and regarding the fire intently.  “He wishes me to send him a few thousand pounds to enable him to marry his cousin and live in idleness in his father’s house on Warwick Crescent until his mother is reconciled, and he wishes to know if I intend to make Bessie my heir.  No, my fine London gentleman!  If Bessie ever has a fortune it will not be from me.  Now, if Neil wanted this money to set himself up in business; if he was going to work to earn his own bread and butter and support his family like an honest man, I would let him have it cheerfully.  But work is the last thing he thinks about.  It would degrade him.  Ugh! it makes me so mad!” and she shook her head fiercely at the fire, as she went on: