d on his
sister's account, and had often pondered extreme measures for her
rescue from an intolerable position.

At length there came to pass the event to which Mrs. Hannaford had
looked as her only hope. The widowed sister in America died, and, out
of her abundance, her children all provided for, left to the unhappy
wife in England a substantial bequest. News of this came first to Dr.
Derwent, who was appointed trustee.

But before he had time to communicate with Mrs. Hannaford, a letter
from her occasioned him new anxiety. His sister wrote that Olga was
bent on making a most undesirable marriage, having fallen in love with
a penniless nondescript who called himself an artist; a man given, it
was suspected, to drink, and without any decent connection that one
could hear of. A wretched, squalid affair! Would the Doctor come at
once and see Olga? Her father was away, as usual; of course the girl
would not be influenced by _him_, in any case; she was altogether in a
strange, wild, headstrong state, and one could not be sure how soon the
marriage might come about.

With wrinkled brows, the vexed pathologist set forth for Hammersmith.

CHAPTER XII

A semi-detached dwelling in a part of Hammersmith just being invaded by
the social class below that for which it was built; where, in
consequence, rents had slightly fallen, and notices of "apartments"
were beginning to rise; where itinerant vendors, finding a new market,
strained their voices with special discord; where hired pianos vied
with each other through party walls; where the earth was always very
dusty or very muddy, and the sky above in all seasons had a
discouraging hue. The house itself furnished half-heartedly, as if it
was felt to be a mere encampment; no comfort in any chamber, no air of
home. Hannaford had not cared to distribute his mementoes of battle and
death in the room called his own; they remained in packing-cases. Each
member of the family, unhappy trio, knew that their state was
transitional, and waited rather than lived.

With the surprise of a woman long bitter against destiny, Mrs.
Hannaford learnt that something _had_ happened, and that it was a piece
of good, not ill, fortune. When her brother left the house (having
waited two hours in vain for Olga's return), she made a change of garb,
arranged her hair with something of the old grace, and moved restlessly
from room to room. A light had touched her countenance, dispelling
years of pre