intelligent and
moderately ambitious. She was the only daughter of a dubiously active
commission-agent, and must deem it good fortune if she married a man with
three or four hundred a year; but Thomas Bird had no more than his twelve
pounds a month, and did not venture to call himself a gentleman. In Alma he
found the essentials of true ladyhood--perhaps with reason; he had never
heard her say an ill-natured thing, nor seen upon her face a look which
pained his acute sensibilities; she was unpretentious, of equal temper,
nothing of a gossip, kindly disposed. Never for a moment had he flattered
himself that Alma perceived his devotion or cared for him otherwise than as
for an old friend. But thought is free, and so is love. The modest clerk
had made this girl the light of his life, and whether far or near the rays
of that ideal would guide him on his unworldly path.

New shaven and freshly clad, he set out for the Warbecks' house, which was
in a near part of Brixton. Not an imposing house by any means, but an
object of reverence to Thomas Bird. A servant whom he did not
recognise--servants came and went at the Warbecks'--admitted him to the
drawing-room, which was vacant; there, his eyes wandering about the
gimcrack furniture, which he never found in the same arrangement at two
successive visits, he waited till his hostess came in.

Mrs. Warbeck was very stout, very plain, and rather untidy, yet her
countenance made an impression not on the whole disagreeable; with her wide
eyes, slightly parted lips, her homely smile, and unadorned speech, she
counteracted in some measure the effect, upon a critical observer, of the
pretentious ugliness with which she was surrounded. Thomas thought her a
straightforward woman, and perhaps was not misled by his partiality.
Certainly the tone in which she now began, and the tenor of her remarks,
repelled suspicion of duplicity.

'Well, now, Mr. Thomas, I wish to have a talk.' She had thus styled him
since he grew too old to be called Tom; that is to say, since he was
seventeen. He was now thirty-one. 'And I'm going to talk to you just like
the old friends we are. You see? No nonsense; no beating about the bush.
You'd rather have it so, wouldn't you?' Scarce able to articulate, the
visitor showed a cheery assent. 'Yes, I was sure of that. Now--better come
to the point at once--my daughter is--well, no, she isn't yet, but the fact
is I feel sure she'll very soon be engaged.'

The blow wa