shoulder for a moment.

A few minutes more, and they were passing along by the prison wall,
under the ghastly head, now happily concealed by darkness. Jane
stopped a little short of the house and removed the coat that had so
effectually sheltered her.

'Thank you, sir,' she said, returning it to Sidney.

He took it without speaking, and threw it over his arm. At the door,
now closed, Jane gave a single knock; they were admitted by Clem,
who, in regarding Kirkwood, wore her haughtiest demeanour. This
young man had never paid homage of any kind to Miss Peckover, and
such neglect was by no means what she was used to. Other men who
came to the house took every opportunity of paying her broad
compliments, and some went so far as to offer practical testimony of
their admiration. Sidney merely had a 'How do you do, miss?' at her
service. Coquetry had failed to soften him; Clem accordingly behaved
as if he had given her mortal offence on some recent occasion. She
took care, moreover, to fling a few fierce words at Jane before the
latter disappeared into the house. Thereupon Sidney looked at her
sternly; he said nothing, knowing that interference would only
result in harsher treatment for the poor little slave.

'You know your way upstairs, I b'lieve,' said Clem, as if he were
all but a stranger.

'Thank you, I do,' was Sidney's reply.

Indeed he had climbed these stairs innumerable times during the last