Walking  was  easier  now,  for  though  the  wind|
blew  as  roughly  as  ever,  the  sleet  had  ceased  to!


f


A  SLUM  TRAGEDY  151

fall.  But  Nancy  knew  she  could  not  go  much
farther.  Leaden  weights  seemed  to  press  her
feet  to  the  ground  ;  her  strength  would  not
hold  out  for  long.
"  Norah !  Norah !  "  she  whispered  to  herself,
repeating  the  beloved  name  over  and  over
again,  as  though  it  were  a  talisman  to  conjure
away  fatigue.  "  Norah !  Norah !  "  At  times
the  whisper  rose  to  an  audible  cry,  as  she  went
tottering  forward  through  the  darkness,  eyes
and  ears  strained  to  their  utmost  to  catch
every  sight  and  sound.
Presently  she  entered  a  long,  narrow  street,
with  rows  of  private  houses  on  either  side,
houses  once  of  comfortable,  even  pretentious
aspect,  now  fallen  for  the  most  part  into  tene-
ments, and  reeking  of  filth  and  decay.  On  one
side  of  the  street  they  parted  to  make  space
for  a  narrow  paved  passage  or  court,  entered
by  a  covered  archway,  and  leading  to  a  row  of
tumble-down  stables,  in  the  window  of  one  of
which  a  feeble  light  burned.  A  cabman
putting  up  his  horse,  Nancy  thought,  pausing
under  the  gas-lamp  that  lit  the  entrance  to
the  court.  She  could  see  him  now  bustling
to  and  fro  in  the  dim  rays  of  the  lantern,  and
his  voice  came  to  her  ears  as  he  talked  to  the
tired  beast.  It  was  a  particularly  kind,  hearty
voice,  and  it  cheered  the  old  woman  with  a
pleasant  sense  of  companionship.  She  leaned
against  the  lamp-post  to  listen,  feeling  strangely


152  A  SLUM  TRAGEDY

loth  to  move  on  again  through  the  dark  and
solitary  street.
