CHAPTER I.

THE EARRING.

"Come oot o' the gutter, ye nickum!" cried, in harsh, half-masculine
voice, a woman standing on the curbstone of a short, narrow, dirty
lane, at right angles to an important thoroughfare, itself none of
the widest or cleanest. She was dressed in dark petticoat and print
wrapper. One of her shoes was down at the heel, and discovered a
great hole in her stocking. Had her black hair been brushed and
displayed, it would have revealed a thready glitter of grey, but all
that was now visible of it was only two or three untidy tresses that
dropped from under a cap of black net and green ribbons, which
looked as if she had slept in it. Her face must have been handsome
when it was young and fresh; but was now beginning to look tattooed,
though whether the colour was from without or from within, it would
have been hard to determine. Her black eyes looked resolute, almost
fierce, above her straight, well-formed nose. Yet evidently
circumstance clave fast to her. She had never risen above it, and
was now plainly subjected to it.

About thirty yards from her, on the farther side of the main street,
and just opposite the mouth of the lane, a child, apparently about
six, but in reality about eight, was down on his knees raking with
both hands in the grey dirt of the kennel. At the woman's cry he
lifted his head, ceased his search, raised himself, but without
getting up, and looked at her. They were notable eyes out of which
he looked -- of such a deep blue were they, and having such long
lashes; but more notable far from their expression, the nature of