sadness--by no means forced upon the vulgar eye, but
unmistakable when you studied her--was indicative of faithful
sensibilities. Scawthorne had altogether lost sight of Sidney Kirkwood
and of the Hewetts; he knew they were all gone to a remote part of
London, and more than this he had no longer any care to discover. On
excellent terms with his landlady, he skilfully elicited from her now
and then a confidential remark with regard to Jane; of late, indeed, he
had established something like a sentimental understanding with the
good Bessie, so that, whenever he mentioned Jane, she fell into a
pleasant little flutter, feeling that she understood what was in
progress. . . . Why not?--he kept asking himself. Joseph Snowdon (who
addressed his letters to Hanover Street in a feigned hand) seemed to
have an undeniable affection for the girl, and was constant in his
promises of providing a handsome dowry. The latter was not a point of
such importance as a few years ago, but the dollars would be
acceptable. And then, the truth was, Scawthorne felt himself more and
more inclined to put a certain question to Jane, dowry or none.

Yes, she felt it as a disgrace, poor girl! When she saw the name
'Snowdon' in the newspaper, in such a shameful and horrible connection,
her impulse was to flee, to hide herself. It was dreadful to go to her
work and hear the girls talking of this attempted murder. The new
misery came upon her just as she was regaining something of her natural
spirits, after long sorrow and depression which had affected her
health. But circumstances, now as ever, seemed to plot that at a
critical moment of her own experience she should be called out of
herself and constrained to become the consoler of others.

For some months the domestic peace of Mr. and Mrs. Byass had been
gravely disturbed. Unlike the household at Crouch End, it was to
prosperity that Sam and his wife owed their troubles. Year after year
Sam's position had improved; he was now in receipt of a salary which
made--or ought to have made--things at home very comfortable. Though
his children were now four in number, he could supply their wants. He
could buy Bessie a new gown without very grave consideration, and could
regard his own shiny top-hat, when he donned it in the place of one
that was really respectable enough, without twinges of conscience.

But Sam was not remarkable for wisdom; indeed, had he been anything
more than a foolish calculating-machine