The visitor made a quick survey of these appearances; then he seated
himself on the chair Sidney offered. He was not entirely at his ease,
and looked up at the young man twice or thrice before he began to speak
again.

'Mr. Kirkwood, were you ever acquainted with my son, by name Joseph
Snowdon?'

'No; I never knew him,' was the reply. 'I have heard his name, and I
know where he once lived--not far from here.'

'You're wondering what has brought me to you. I have heard of you from
people a grandchild of mine is living with. I dare say it is the house
you mean--in Clerkenwell Close.'

'So you have found it!' exclaimed Sidney with pleasure. 'I've been
looking about for you as I walked along the streets these last two or
three days.'

'Looking for me?' said the other, astonished.

Sidney supplied the explanation, but without remarking on the
circumstances which made Jane so anxious to discover a possible friend.
Snowdon listened attentively, and at length, with a slight smile; he
seemed to find pleasure in the young man's way of expressing himself.
When silence ensued, he looked about absently for a moment; then,
meeting Sidney's eyes, said in a grave voice:

'That poor child is very ill.'

'Ill? I'm sorry to hear it.'

'The reason I've come to you, Mr. Kirkwood, is because she's called out
your name so often. They don't seem able to tell me how she came into
this state, but she's had a fright of some kind, or she's been living
very unhappily. She calls on your name, as if she wanted you to protect
her from harm. I didn't know what to think about it at first. I'm a
stranger to everybody--I may tell you I've been abroad for several
years--and they don't seem very ready to put trust in me; but I decided
at last that I'd come and speak to you. It's my grandchild, and perhaps
the only one of my family left; nobody can give me news of her father
since he went away four or five years ago. She came to herself this
morning for a little, but I'm afraid she couldn't understand what I
tried to tell her; then I mentioned your name, and I could see it did
her good at once. What I wish to ask of you is, would you come to her
bedside for a few minutes? She might know you, and I feel sure it would
be a kindness to her.'

Sidney appeared to hesitate. It was not, of course, that he dreamt of
refusing, but he was busy revolving all he knew of Jane's life with the
Peckovers, and asking himself what it behoved him to tell, what to