her vehement and jealous nature; saw why she had been so cruel to the
child of a rival; why she had conceived compassion for that child in
proportion as the father's unnatural indifference had quenched the anger
of her own self-love; and, above all, why, as the idea of reclaiming and
appropriating solely to herself the man who, for good or for evil, had
grown into the all-predominant object of her life, gained more and more
the mastery over her mind, it expelled the lesser and the baser passions,
and the old mean revenge against an infant faded away before the light of
that awakening conscience which is often rekindled from ashes by the
sparks of a single better and worthier thought. And in the resolute
design to reclaim Jasper Losely, Arabella came at once to a ground in
common with his father, with his child. Oh what, too, would the old man
owe to her, what would be his gratitude, his joy, if she not only guarded
his spotless Sophy, but saved from the bottomless abyss his guilty son!
Thus when Arabella Crane had, nearly five years before, sought Waife's
discovered hiding-place, near the old bloodstained Tower, mutual
interests and sympathies had formed between them a bond of alliance not
the less strong because rather tacitly acknowledged than openly
expressed. Arabella had written to Waife from the Continent, for the
first half-year pretty often, and somewhat sanguinely, as to the chance
of Losely's ultimate reformation. Then the intervals of silence became
gradually more prolonged, and the letters more brief. But still, whether
from the wish not unnecessarily to pain the old man, or, as would be more
natural to her character, which, even in its best aspects, was not
gentle, from a proud dislike to confess failure, she said nothing of the
evil courses which Jasper had renewed. Evidently she was always near
him. Evidently, by some means or another, his life, furtive and dark,
was ever under the glare of her watchful eyes.

Meanwhile Sophy had been presented to Caroline Montfort. As Waife had so