roused her from apathy; her blood tingled, rushed into her
cheeks and throbbed at her temples. So, for all she had said, he was
daring to act the spy! He suspected her; he was lurking to surprise
visitors, to watch her outgoing and coming in. Very well; at least he
had provided her with occupation.

Five minutes later she saw that he had gone away. Thereupon--having in
the meantime clad herself--she left the house and walked at a quick
step towards a region Of North London with which she had no
acquaintance. In an hour's time she had found another lodging, which
she took by the day only. Then back again to Islington. She told her
landlady that a sudden necessity compelled her to leave; she would have
a cab and remove her box at once. There was the hazard that Sidney
might return just as she was leaving; she braved it, and in another ten
minutes was out of reach. .

Let his be the blame. She had warned him, and he chose to disregard her
wish. Now she had cut the last bond that fretted her, and the hours
rushed on like a storm-wind driving her whither they would.

Her mind was relieved from the stress of conflict; despair had given
place to something that made her laugh at all the old scruples. So far
from dreading the judgments that would follow her disappearance, she
felt a pride in evil repute. Let them talk of her! If she dared
everything, it would be well understood that she had not done so
without a prospect worthy of herself. If she broke away from the
obligations of a life that could never be other than poor and
commonplace, those who knew her would estimate the compensation she had
found. Sidney Kirkwood was aware of her ambitions; for his own sake he
had hoped to keep her on the low level to which she was born; now let
him recognise his folly! Some day she would present herself before
him:--'Very sorry that I could not oblige you, my dear sir, but you see
that my lot was to be rather different from that you kindly planned for
me.' Let them gossip and envy!

It was a strange night that followed. Between one and two o'clock the
heavens began to be overflashed with summer lightning; there was no
thunder, no rain. The blue gleams kept illuminating the room for more
than an hour. Clara could not lie in bed. The activity of her brain
became all but delirium; along her nerves, through all the courses of
her blood, seemed to run fires which excited her with an indescribable
mingling of delight and torment. She walke