than coldness. Sternly he had forbidden his wife and the little ones to
exchange a word of any kind with Sidney, or with any friend of his. He
appeared to nourish incessantly the bitter resentment to which he gave
expression when Sidney and he last met.

There was no topic on which Sidney was more desirous of speaking with
Jane than this which now occupied both their minds. How far she
understood Clara's story, and his part in it, he had no knowledge; for
between Snowdon and himself there had long been absolute silence on
that matter. It was not improbable that Jane had been instructed in the
truth; he hoped she had not been left to gather what she could from
Clem Peckover's gossip. Yet the difficulty with which he found himself
beset, now that an obvious opportunity offered for frank speech, was so
great that, after a few struggles, he fell back on the reflection with
which he was wont to soothe himself: Jane was still so young, and the
progress of time, by confirming her knowledge of him, would make it all
the simpler to explain the miserable past. Had he, in fact, any right
to relate this story, to seek her sympathy in that direct way? It was
one aspect of a very grave question which occupied more and more of
Sidney's thought.

With an effort, he turned the dialogue into quite a new direction, and
Jane, though a little absent for some minutes, seemed at length to
forget the abruptness of the change. Sidney had of late been resuming
his old interest in pencil-work; two or three of his drawings hung on
these walls, and he spoke of making new sketches when he next went into
the country. Years ago, one of his favourite excursions--of the longer
ones which he now and then allowed himself--was to Danbury Hill, some
five miles to the east of Chelmsford, one of the few pieces of rising
ground in Essex, famous for its view over Maldon and the estuary of the
Blackwater. Thither Snowdon and Jane accompanied him during the last
summer but one, and the former found so much pleasure in the place that
he took lodgings with certain old friends of Sidney's, and gave his
granddaughter a week of healthful holiday. In the summer that followed,
the lodgings were again taken for a week, and this year the same
expedition was in view. Sidney had as good as promised that he would
join his friends for the whole time of their absence, and now he talked
with Jane of memories and anticipations. Neither was sensible how the
quarters and the ha