was in reality impossible to her, yet she persistently thought and
talked of it. To Mrs. Ledward she confided at least once a week,
generally when she paid her rent, her settled intention to go and find
work of some kind in the course of the next two or three days; till at
length this had become a standing joke with the landlady, who laughed
merrily as often as the subject was mentioned. Lotty had of late let
her thoughts turn to her father, whom she had never seen since their
parting. Not with any affection did she think of him, but, in her
despairing moments, it seemed to her impossible that he should still
refuse aid if she appealed to him for it. Several times of late she had
been on the point of putting her conviction to the test. She had passed
his house from time to time, and knew that he still lived there.
Perhaps the real reason of her hesitation was, not fear of him, but a
dread, which she would not confess to herself, lest he should indeed
prove obdurate, and so put an end to her last hope. For what would
become of her and of Ida if her health absolutely failed? The poor
creature shrank from the thought in horror. The hope connected with her
father grew more and more strong. But it needed some very decided
crisis to bring her to the point of overcoming all the apprehensions
which lay in the way of an appeal to the stern old man This crisis had
arrived. The illness which was now upon her she felt to be more serious
than any she had yet suffered. Suppose she were to die, and Ida to be
left alone in the world Even before she heard of the child's dismissal
from school she had all but made up her mind to write to her father,
and the shock of that event gave her the last impulse. She wrote a
letter of pitiful entreaty. Would he help her to some means of earning
a living for herself and her child? She could not part from Ida.
Perhaps she had not long to live, and to ask her to give up her child
would be too cruel. She would do anything, would go into service,
perform the hardest and coarsest toil. She told him how Ida had been
brought up, and implored his pity for the child, who at all events was
innocent.

When Ida reached home from her visit to the City, she saw her mother
risen and sitting by the fire. Lotty had found the suspense
insupportable as she lay still, and, though the pains in her chest grew
worse and the feeling of lassitude was gaining upon her, she had
half-dressed, and even tried to move about. Jus