her faith in the right, her courage, her hope, her frank friendship with
those who would help?

He was impatient with the veteran Waters this morning; and Waters was
himself fractious, and inclined to resent sarcasm. He had just heard
from Buckinghamshire that his substitute had, for some reason or other,
intrusted the keys of the wine-cellar to one of the house-maids; and
that that industrious person had seized the opportunity to tilt up all
the port-wine she could lay her hands on in order to polish the bottles
with a duster.

"Well," said his master, "I suppose she collected the cobwebs and sold
them to a wine-merchant: they would be invaluable."

Waters said nothing, but resolved to have a word with the young woman
when he went down.

The morning was fine; in any case, Brand could not have borne the
distress of waiting in all day, on the chance of her reply coming. He
had to be moving. He walked up to Lisle Street, and saw Reitzei, on the
pretext of talking about Kirski.

"Lind will be back in a week," said the pallid-faced smart young man.
"He writes with great satisfaction, which always means something in his
case. I should not wonder if he and his daughter went to live in the
States."

"Oh, indeed," said Brand, coldly; but the words made his heart tremble.

"Yes. And if you would only go through the remaining degrees, you might