he drew near to Tysoe Street, carrying the bag which was
all the luggage he had needed, Sidney by chance encountered Joseph
Snowdon, who, after inquiring about his relatives, said that he had
just come from visiting the Hewetts. Mrs. Hewett was very ill indeed;
and it was scarcely to be expected she would live more than a few days.

'You mean that?' exclaimed Kirkwood, upon whom, after his week of
holiday and of mental experiences which seemed to have changed the face
of the world for him, this sudden announcement came with a painful
shock, reviving all the miserable past. 'She is dying?'

'There's no doubt of it.'

And Joseph added his belief that John Hewett would certainly not take
it ill if the other went there before it was too late.

Sidney had no appetite now for the meal he would have purchased on
reaching home. A profound pity for the poor woman who had given him so
many proofs of her affection made his heart heavy almost to tears. The
perplexities of the present vanished in a revival of old tenderness, of
bygone sympathies and sorrows. He could not doubt but that it was his
duty to go to his former friends at a time such as this. Perhaps, if he
had overcome his pride, he might have sooner brought the estrangement
to an end.

He did not know, and had forgotten to ask of Snowdon, the number of the
house in King's Cross Road where the Hewetts lived. He could find it,
however, by visiting Pennyloaf. Conquering his hesitation, he was on
the point of going forth, when his landlady came up and told him that a
young girl wished to see him. It was Amy Hewett, and her face told him
on what errand she had come.

'Mr. Kirkwood,' she began, looking up with embarrassment, for he was
all but a stranger to her now, 'mother wants to know if you'd come and
see her. She's very bad; they're afraid she's--'

The word was choked. Amy had been crying, and the tears again rose to
her eyes.

'I was just coming,' Sidney answered, as he took her hand and pressed
it kindly.

They crossed Wilmington Square and descended by the streets that slope
to Coldbath Fields Prison. The cellar in which John Hewett and his
family were housed was underneath a milk-shop; Amy led the way down
stone steps from the pavement of the street into an area, where more
than two people would have had difficulty in standing together. Sidney
saw that the window which looked upon this space was draped with a
sheet. By an open door they entered a passage,