elcomed him in this dark little second-floor
room--dwelling-room and bedroom combined--in which she was sitting
alone; for her husband spent most of the day abroad on the business
which had brought them to London, either superintending the
alterations in the unfurnished premises he had hired in Frith Street
for his shop and the lead-works by which he proposed to make his
fortune, or in long discussions at Johnson's Court with Uncle
Matthew, who was helping with money and advice. The lodgings in
Crown Court were narrow enough and shut in by high walls. But Hetty
had not inhabited them two hours before they looked clean and
comfortable and even dainty. Her own presence lent an air of
distinction to the meanest room.

Her face, her voice, her regal manners, her exquisitely tender smile,
came upon Charles with the shock of discovery. These two had not
seen one another for years. The date of this first call was December
22nd: then and there--with a shade of regret that in a few days he
must leave London to pay Wroote a visit before his vacation closed--
Charles resolved that she should not spend her Christmas uncheered.
On Christmas Day he had carried her off with her husband to dine at
Westminster with Mr. and Mrs. Sam Wesley. Mr. Wright had been on his
best behaviour, Mrs. Sam unexpectedly gracious, and the meeting
altogether a great success. Charles had walked home with the guests,
and had called again the next afternoon. He could see that his
visits gave Hetty the purest delight, and now that they must end, he,
too, realised how pleasant they had been, and that he was going to
miss them sorely.

"Only seven days?" he went on, musing. "I can hardly believe it; you
have let me talk at such length--and I have been so happy."

Hetty clapped her hands together--an old girlish trick of hers.
"It's I that have been happy! And not least in knowing that you will
do us all credit." She knit her brows. "You are different from all
the rest of us, Charles; I cannot explain how. But, sure, there's a
Providence in it, that you, who are meant for different fortunes--"

"How different?"

"Why, you will take our kinsman's offer, of course. You will move in
a society far above us--go into Parliament--become a great
statesman--"

"My dear Hetty, what puts that into your head? I have refused."

"Refused!" She set down the kettle and gazed at him. "Is this
John's doing?" she asked slowly.

"Why should it be John's