yet it was certain that he took
advantage of no one, for nobody ever met him there by any chance
whatever! A fact even more remarkable still was, that never, after that
day, did Emma Ward go to her duties through Kensington Gardens, but
always by the Bayswater Road, although the latter was dusty and
unpicturesque compared with the former; and it is a circumstance worthy
of note, as savouring a little of mystery, that Emma acted as if she too
were a guilty creature during her morning walks, and glanced uneasily
from side to side as she went along, expecting, apparently, that a
policeman or a detective would pounce upon her suddenly and bear her off
to prison. But, whether guilty or not guilty, it is plain that no
policeman or detective had the heart to do it, for Miss Ward went on her
mission daily without molestation.

It is not easy to say what was the cause of these unaccountable
proceedings. We might hazard an opinion, but we feel that our duty is
accomplished when we have simply recorded them. Perhaps love had
something to do with them--perhaps not--who knows?

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

WHAT DRINK WILL DO.

Time passed on, as time is wont to do, and Christmas came again. The
snow was deep in London streets and thick on the roofs and chimneys. It
curled over the eaves of the houses in heavy white folds ready to fall
and smother the unwary passengers. It capped the railings everywhere
with little white knobs, and rounded off the corners of things so, that
wherever the eye alighted, the same impressions were invariably conveyed
to it, namely, whiteness and rotundity. Corinthian capitals were
rendered, if possible, more ornate than ever by snow; equestrian statues
were laden with it so heavily, that the horses appeared to stagger
beneath their trappings and the riders, having white tips to their
noses, white lumps on their heads and shoulders, and white patches on
their cheek-bones and chins, looked ineffably ridiculous, and miserably
cold. Everything, in fact, was covered and blocked up with snow, and
Londoners felt as if they had muffled drums in their ears.

It was morning. The sky was clear, the air still, and the smoke of
chimneys perpendicular. Poulterers' shops were in their holiday attire;
toy-shops were in the ascendant, and all other shops were gayer than
usual. So were the people who thronged the streets and beat their hands
and stamped their feet--for it was unusually cold.

Street boys wer