like anger in his eyes.

'I'm willing to do that, Mr. Hewett,' said Kirkwood in a low but
firm voice, his eyes turned away from Clara. 'No human being can
answer for another in the real meaning of the word; but I take upon
myself to say that Clara will bring you no sorrow. She hears me say
it. They're not the kind of words that a man speaks without thought
of what they mean.'

Clara had seated herself by the table, and was moving a finger along
the pattern of the dirty white cloth. She bit her under-lip in the
manner already described, seemingly her habit when she wished to
avoid any marked expression of countenance.

'I can't see what Mr. Kirkwood's got to do with it at all,' she
said, with indifference, which now, however, was rather
good-humoured than the reverse. 'I'm sure I don't want anybody to
answer for _me_.' A slight toss of the head. 'You'd have let me go
in any case, father; so I don't see you need bring Mr. Kirkwood's
name in.'

Hewett turned away to the fireplace and hung his head. Sidney,
gazing darkly at the girl, saw her look towards him, and she smiled.
The strange effect of that smile upon her features! It gave
gentleness to the mouth, and, by making more manifest the
intelligent light of her eyes, emphasised the singular pathos
inseparable from their regard. It was a smile to which a man would
concede anything, which would vanquish every prepossession, which
would inspire pity and tenderness and devotion in the heart of
sternest resentment.