right thing! I respect her more than all the women as never went
wrong because they never had occasion to. I'm goin' to put her as a
mother over my children, and I'm goin' to make a happier life for
her. She's a good girl, I tell you. I've seen her nearly every day
this fortnight; I know all about her. She wouldn't have me when I
first asked her--that was a week ago. She said no; she'd disgrace
me. If you can't respect her as you would any other woman, never
come into my lodging!'

Sidney was warm with generous glow. He wrung Hewett's hand and
stammered incoherent words.

John took new lodgings in an obscure part of Clerkenwell, and seemed
to have become a young man once more. His complaints ceased; the
energy with which he went about his work was remarkable. He said his
wife was the salvation of him. And then befell one of those happy
chances which supply mankind with instances for its pathetic faith
that a good deed will not fail of reward. John's brother died, and
bequeathed to him some four hundred pounds. Hereupon, what must the
poor fellow do but open workshops on his own account, engage men, go
about crying that his opportunity had come at last. Here was the bit
of rock by means of which he could save himself from the sea of
competition that had so nearly whelmed him! Little Clara, now eleven
years old, could go on steadily at school; no need to think of how
the poor child should earn a wretched living. Bob, now thirteen,
should shortly be apprenticed to some better kind of trade. New
rooms were taken and well furnished. Maggie, the wife, could have
good food, such as she needed in her constant ailing, alas! The baby
just born was no longer a cause of anxious thought, but a joy in the
home. And Sidney Kirkwood came to supper as soon as the new rooms