relative of yours by marriage, Susan Newson, a sailor's widow, is in the
town, and to ask whether you would wish to see her."

The rich rouge-et-noir of his countenance underwent a slight change.
"Oh--Susan is--still alive?" he asked with difficulty.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you her daughter?"

"Yes, sir--her only daughter."

"What--do you call yourself--your Christian name?"

"Elizabeth-Jane, sir."

"Newson?"

"Elizabeth-Jane Newson."

This at once suggested to Henchard that the transaction of his early
married life at Weydon Fair was unrecorded in the family history. It was
more than he could have expected. His wife had behaved kindly to him
in return for his unkindness, and had never proclaimed her wrong to her
child or to the world.

"I am--a good deal interested in your news," he said. "And as this is
not a matter of business, but pleasure, suppose we go indoors."

It was with a gentle delicacy of manner, surprising to Elizabeth, that