first. I'm a stranger to everybody--I may tell you I've been
abroad for several years--and they don't seem very ready to put
trust in me; but I decided at last that I'd come and speak to you.
It's my grandchild, and perhaps the only one of my family left;
nobody can give me news of her father since he went away four or
five years ago. She came to herself this morning for a little, but
I'm afraid she couldn't understand what I tried to tell her; then I
mentioned your name, and I could see it did her good at once. What I
wish to ask of you is, would you come to her bedside for a few
minutes? She might know you, and I feel sure it would be a kindness
to her.'

Sidney appeared to hesitate. It was not, of course, that he dreamt
of refusing, but he was busy revolving all he knew of Jane's life
with the Peckovers, and asking himself what it behoved him to tell,
what to withhold. Daily experience guarded him against the habit of
gossip, which is one of the innumerable curses of the uneducated
(whether poor or wealthy), and, notwithstanding the sympathy with
which his visitor inspired him, he quickly decided to maintain
reserve until he understood more of the situation.

'Yes, yes; I'll go with you at once,' he made haste to reply, when
he perceived that his hesitancy was occasioning doubt and trouble.
'In fact, I was just starting to go and see the Hewetts when you
knocked at the door. They're friends of mine--living in Mrs.
Peckover's house. That's how I came to know Jane. I haven't been
there for several days, and when I last saw her, as I was saying,
she seemed as well as usual.'

'I'm afraid that wasn't much to boast of,' said Snowdon. 'She's a