The poor creature wrote to her sister to say she was in London, alone and penniless, and, as she thought, dying." "And the sister went to her ?" I remembered that deprecating sentence in the family Bible, written in a woman's hand.
"That she did, good honest soul, as fast as she could travel, carrying a full purse along with her.

She found poor Susan at an inn near Aldersgate-street--the old quarter, you see, that she'd known in her young days.

Mrs.Halliday meant to have brought the poor soul back to Yorkshire, and had settled it all with Jim; but it was too late for anything of that kind.

She found Susan dying, wandering in her mind off and on, but just able to recognise her sister, and to ask forgiveness for having trusted to Montagu Kingdon, instead of taking counsel from those that wished her well." "Was that all ?" I asked presently.
Mr.Mercer made long pauses in the course of his narrative, during which we walked briskly on; he pondering on those past events, I languishing for further information.
"Well, lad, that was about all.

Where Susan had been in all those years, or what she had been doing, was more than Mrs.Halliday could find out.