"Now," she said, "be advised by us; go away--don't let your husband find you."
"Go to London," cried Claude eagerly; "there is always work to be done and money to be earned there. See--I will give you my address. You can write to me; and I will ask my aunt or my mother to give you employment."
He tore a leaf from his pocket-book and wrote on it; "Claude Lennox, 200 Belgrave Square, London."
He looked very handsome, very generous and noble, as he gave the folded note to the woman, with two sovereigns inside it.
"Remember," he said, "that I promise my mother will find you some work if you will apply to us."
She thanked him, but no ray of hope came to her poor face. She did not seem to think it strange that they were there--that it was unusual at that early hour to see such as they were out in the fields.
"Heaven bless you!" she said gratefully. "A dying woman's blessing will not hurt you."
"You will not die," said Claude cheerily; "you will be all right in time. Do you belong to this part?"
"No," she replied; "we are quite strangers here. I do not even know the name of the place. We were going to walk to Liverpool; my husband thought he should get better wages there."
"Take my advice," said Claude earnestly--"leave him; let him go his own road. Travel to London, and get a decent living for yourself there."
"I will think of it," she said wearily; and then a vague unconsciousness began to steal over her face.
"You are tired," said Hyacinth gently; "lie down and sleep again. Good-by." The birds were singing gayly when they turned to leave her.
"Stay," said Claude; "what is your name?"
"Anna Barratt," she replied; and only Heaven knows whether those were the last words she spoke.
The woman laid her weary head down again as one who would fain rest, and they walked away from her.
"We have done a good deed," said Claude thoughtfully; "saved that poor woman from being murdered, perhaps. I hope she will do what I advised--start for London. If my mother should take a fancy to her, she could easily put her in the way of getting her living."
To his surprise, Hyacinth suddenly took her hand from his, and broke out into a wild fit of weeping.
"My darling, what is it? Cynthy, what is the matter?"