and I
don't know what's to become of us all. One didn't need to have jewels
missing, and poor servants suspected of taking them, and sent away
without a month's warning, and not a bit of character. But oh, John!--
John!--John! it wasn't a month's warning you had, but many months'
warning; and it wasn't you stole the cross, but let something steal away
all your good heart and good looks too."

Here Jane Barker burst out into a passionate fit of weeping, sobbing as
though her heart would break. She was sitting by her open window--one
looking over a part of the shrubbery which concealed the servants'
offices from the view of those who strolled through the grounds. It was
not the first night by many that Jane had sat there bewailing her
troubles, for it had become a favourite custom with her to sit there,
thoughtful and silent, till her passionate grief brought forth some such
outburst as the above. Busy the whole day at her work about the
sick-chamber of her lady, Jane told herself that at such times there was
something else for her to do beside sorrowing; but when at midnight all
about was wrapped in silence, the poor girl would sit or kneel at her
window, mourning and crying for hour after hour.

"Oh, my poor dear lady! If it should come to the worst, and her never
to look upon the little soft face of that sweet babe, sent to be a
comfort to her when she's been so solitary and unhappy all these years;
for she has been. Oh! these men--these men! They break our poor
hearts, they do! Why didn't the Captain come back sooner and make her
happy? or why didn't he die in real earnest over in the hot Ingies,
where they said he was killed, and not come back just then to make her
heart sore, as I know it has been ever since? though, poor soul, she
loves, honours, and obeys her husband as she should. There didn't never
ought to be any marrying at all, for it's always been an upset to me
ever since I thought about it; and him such a proper man, too, as he
used to be--such a nice red and white face, and always so smart till he
took to the drink; as I told him, he got to love it ever so much better
than he loved me, though he always coaxed me round into forgiving him.
I always knew it was weak; but then I couldn't help it, and I didn't
make myself; and if poor women are made weak and helpless, what can they
do?

"I always told him it would be his ruin, and begged of him to give it
up--and oh! the times he's kissed me and p