itely more than Pennyloaf, for instance, would
have done under the circumstances; but her joy consisted, in the main,
of a satisfaction of pure instincts and a deep sense of gratitude to
those who made her life what it was. She could as little have
understood Sidney's mind at this moment as she could have given an
analytic account of her own sensations. For all that, the two were in
profound sympathy; how different soever the ways in which they were
affected, the result, as they stood side by side, was identical in the
hearts of both.

Sidney began to speak of Michael Snowdon, keeping his voice low, as if
in fear of breaking those subtle harmonies wherewith the night
descended.

'We must be careful not to over-tire him, He looked very pale when he
went upstairs. I've thought lately that he must suffer more than he
tells us.'

'Yes, I'm afraid he often does,' Jane assented, as if relieved to speak
of it. 'Yet he always says it's nothing to trouble about, nothing but
what is natural at his age. He's altered a great deal since father
came,' she added, regarding him diffidently.

'I hope it isn't because he thinks your father may be wanting to take
you away?'

'Oh, it can't be that! Oh, he knows I wouldn't leave him! Mr. Kirkwood,
you don't think my father will give us any trouble?'

She revealed an anxiety which delicacy of feeling had hitherto
prevented her expressing. Sidney at once spoke reassuringly, though he
had in fact no little suspicion of Joseph Snowdon's tactics.

'It's my grandfather that I ought to think most of,' pursued Jane
earnestly. 'I can't feel to my father as I do to _him_. What should I
have been now if--'

Something caused her to leave the speech unfinished, and for a few
moments there was silence. From the ground exhaled a sweet fresh odour,
soothing to the senses, and at times a breath of air brought subtler
perfume from the alleys of the garden. In the branches above them
rustled a bird's wing. At a distance on the country road sounded the
trotting of a horse.

'I feel ashamed and angry with myself,' said Sidney, in a tone of
emotion, 'when I think now of t hose times. I might have done
something, Jane. I had no right to know what you were suffering and
just go by as if it didn't matter!'

'Oh, but you didn't!' came eagerly from the girl's lips. 'You've
forgotten, but I can't. You were very kind to me--you helped me more
than you can think--you never saw me without speaking kindly. D