“Well, young Ishmael, I shall start for Mr. Martindale’s to-morrow, to dig that well.  I shall have a plenty for you to do, so you must be at my house as usual at six o’clock in the morning,” he said.

“Professor, I think I will walk with you.  I ought to tell Mr. Middleton at once.  And I shall have no more time after to-day,” replied the boy rising.

They went out together and in silence retraced their steps to Brudenell Heights.  Both were brooding over Ishmael’s defeated hopes and over that strange fatality in the lot of the poor that makes them miss great fortunes for the lack of small means.

The professor parted with his companion at his own cottage door.  But Ishmael, with his hands in his pockets, walked slowly and thoughtfully on towards Brudenell Heights.

To have the cup of happiness dashed to the ground the very moment it was raised to his lips!  It was a cruel disappointment.  He could not resign himself to it.  All his nature was in arms to resist it.  His mind was laboring with the means to reconcile his duty and his desire.  His intense longing to go to school, his burning thirst for knowledge, the eagerness of his hungry and restless intellect for food and action, can scarcely be appreciated by less gifted beings.  While earnestly searching for the way by which he might supply Hannah with the means of living, without sacrificing his hopes of school, he suddenly hit upon a plan.  He quickened his footsteps to put it into instant execution.  He arrived at Brudenell Hall and asked to see Mrs. Middleton.  A servant took up his petition and soon returned to conduct him to that lady’s presence.  They went up two flights of stairs, when the man, turning to the left, opened a door, and admitted the boy to the bed-chamber of Mrs. Middleton.

The lady, wrapped in a dressing gown and shawl, reclined in an arm-chair in the chimney corner.

“Come here, my dear,” she said, in a sweet voice.  And when Ishmael had advanced and made his bow, she took his hand kindly and said:  “You are the only visitor whom I would have received to-day, for I have taken a very bad cold from last night’s exposure, my dear; but you I could not refuse.  Now sit down in that chair opposite me, and tell me what I can do for you.  I hear you are coming to school here; I am glad of it.”

“I was, ma’am; but I do not know that I am”, replied the boy.

“Why, how is that?”

“I hope you won’t be displeased with me, ma’am—­”

“Certainly not, my boy.  What is it that you wish to say?”

“Well, ma’am, my Aunt Hannah cannot weave now, because her wrists are crippled with rheumatism; and, as she cannot earn any money in that way, I shall be obliged to give up school—­unless—­” Ishmael hesitated.

“Unless what, my boy?”

“Unless she can get some work that she can do.  She can knit and sew very nicely, and I thought maybe, ma’am—­I hope you won’t be offended—­”