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trembled. “She’s not good, Vicar. And we be runnin’ out of wood and food.”
    Tremain stepped back, removed his hat and gloves, and placed them on a rickety three-legged table. No wonder it was blasted cold in there. He would keep his coat on. “Take me to your mother, Drew.”
    Drew reached for his hand and grasped it, shocking Tremain. The boy’s touch warmed him much like Eliza’s, but in a different way. Drew pulled him along to the sick room. Inside, Ruth lay in her bed as pale as a ghost, her breath ragged and wheezing.
    Nearby, her neighbor, Mrs. McKinley, sat, knitting. She stood. “Thank God you be here, Mr. Colson. If you hadn’t come today I would have sent word. Things be dire...”
    He held up his hand to interrupt. “Drew already filled me in. You may go, Mrs. McKinley, and I thank you for your continued kindness toward Ruth and her son. If you could send your husband along in about thirty minutes. I will pay him to fetch food and firewood for the Paynes.” His voice was firm and commanding.
    Mrs. McKinley clearly received the message. She quickly gathered up her knitting and with a shaky nod of her head scurried from the flat.
    “Drew, be a good lad and allow me to speak to your mother alone?” he asked gently. Drew bit his lower lip and nodded, closing the door behind him. He pulled up a wobbly chair and sat by Ruth’s bedside and took her hand. It was cool to the touch, thin and wasting.
    “Won’t be long now, Vicar,” she whispered hoarsely.
    “No, Ruth. Not long at all.”
    “Promise me you will see Drew goes to a loving home?” Ruth coughed. “Though the neighbors have been kind, none of them want the boy, and...and I don’t want him to wind up at one of those awful places. A workhouse or orphanage. Promise me?” She clutched his hand weakly, her voice raised in worry.
    “I have already spoken to Viscount Hawkestone’s steward, Mr. Jonathan Dibley, and the wheels are in motion to find Drew a loving home. Lay your worries to rest. I give you my word I will care for the child and see him well settled.”
    A great sob left her throat. “Both you and his lordship have been a blessing. I’ve no family. What would have happened to us...?” A bout of fierce coughing interrupted her words. Blood trickled from the corner of Ruth’s mouth.
    He reached in his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and gently dabbed the blood away. “Though the viscount is an absent landlord, he is well aware of what goes on with all his tenants and the villagers under his domain. He has instructed me to see to your comfort in particular. And to that of your son.” He laid his hand on her clammy forehead. “Eternal God, grant your servant, Ruth Payne, your peace beyond understanding. Give us faith and the comfort of your presence.” Ruth closed her eyes, tears escaping the corners and trickling down her cheeks. “I go and prepare a place for you. And I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. Let’s deliver the Lord’s Prayer...Our Father...”
    They recited together. Ruth’s voice shook and trembled, but the benevolent smile she gave him when they finished told him he gave her a modicum of peace. At times like this, Tremain believed he did some good in the world. That was the entire reason he became a clergyman in the Church of England.
    He sat with the poor woman a while longer until she closed her eyes and napped fitfully. A while back, he’d questioned Ruth about Drew’s father, but she merely said he was dead and there was no family to turn to. Then last week Ruth revealed the circumstances of Drew’s birth, and Tremain promised to keep the secret and never reveal the tragic details to the lad.
    McKinley arrived and Tremain passed him the coin, barking out orders to fetch food and firewood. He shouldn’t be so gruff, the neighbors did what they could as they had their own lives to lead and mouths to feed. But seeing a good woman suffer needlessly