he would
have felt its injustice, but at the same time would have bowed her
head. And in this spirit had she looked up to Sidney Kirkwood,
regarding him as when she was a child, save for that subtle
modification which began on the day when she brought news of Clara
Hewett's disappearance. Perfect in kindness, Sidney had never addressed
a word to her which implied more than friendship--never until that
evening at the farm; then for the first time had he struck a new note.
His words seemed spoken with the express purpose of altering his and
her relations to each other. So much Jane had felt, and his change
since then was all the more painful to her, all the more confusing. Now
that of a sudden she had to regard herself in an entirely new way, the
dearest interest of her life necessarily entered upon another phase.
Struggling to understand how her grandfather could think her worthy of
such high trust, she inevitably searched her mind for testimony as to
the account in which Sidney held her. A fearful hope had already
flushed her cheeks before Michael spoke the words which surely could
have but one meaning.

On one point Sidney had left her no doubts; that his love for Clara
Hewett was a thing of the past he had told her distinctly. And why did
he wish her to be assured of that? Oh, had her grandfather been
mistaken in those words he reported? Durst she put faith in them,
coming thus to her by another's voice?

Doubts and dreads and self-reproofs might still visit her from hour to
hour, but the instinct of joy would not allow her to refuse admission
to this supreme hope. As if in spite of herself, the former
gladness--nay, a gladness multiplied beyond conception--reigned once
more in her heart. Her grandfather would not speak lightly in such a
matter as this; the meaning of his words was confessed, to all eternity
immutable. Had it, then, come to this? The friend to whom she looked up
with such reverence, with voiceless gratitude, when he condescended to
speak kindly to _her_, the Peckovers' miserable little servant--he,
after all these changes and chances of life, sought her now that she
was a woman, and had it on his lips to say that he loved her. Hitherto
the impossible, the silly thought to be laughed out of her head, the
desire for which she would have chid herself durst she have faced it
seriously--was it become a very truth? 'Keep a good heart, Jane;
things'll be better some day.' How many years since the rainy and