employed myself that way. But I know he is poor, and lonely, and I think he is somehow neglected too.—How dark it is!"
The room had darkened more and more. There was a very heavy gloom and shadow gathering behind the Chemist's chair.
"What more about him?" he asked.
"He is engaged to be married when he can afford it," said Milly, "and is studying, I think, to qualify himself to earn a living. I have seen, a long time, that he has studied hard and denied himself much.—How very dark it is!"
"It 's turned colder, too," said the old man, rubbing his hands. "There 's a chill and dismal feeling in the room. Where 's my son William? William, my boy, turn the lamp, and rouse the fire!"
Milly's voice resumed, like quiet music very softly played:
"He muttered in his broken sleep yesterday afternoon, after talking to me" (this was to herself) "about some one dead, and some great wrong done that could never be forgotten; but whether to him or
