CHAPTER XV.
RENEWED CONFLICT.
'I'm a murderer, Miss Anne,' said Martha, with a look of settled despair upon her face, on the evening of the next day.
She had been sitting all the weary hours since morning with her face buried in her hands, hearing and heeding no one, until Miss Anne came and sat down beside her, speaking to her in her own kind and gentle tones.
Upon a table in the corner of the cabin lay the little form of the dead child, covered with a white cloth.

The old grandfather was crouching over the fire, moaning and laughing by turns; and Stephen was again absent, rambling upon the snowy uplands.
'And for murderers there is pardon,' said Miss Anne softly.
'Oh, I never thought I wanted pardon,' cried Martha; 'I always felt I'd done my duty better than any of the girls about here.

But I've killed little Nan; and now I remember how cross I used to be when nobody was nigh, till she grew quite timmer-some of me.

Everybody knows I've murdered her; and now it doesn't signify how bad I am.

I shall never get over that.' 'Martha,' said Miss Anne, 'you are not so guilty of the child's death as my uncle, who ought to have had the pit bricked over safely when it was no longer in use.