t his part he suffered
ceaselessly. Had Michael ever repeated to his granddaughter the
confession which Sidney would now have given anything to recall? It was
more than possible. Of Jane's feeling Sidney could not entertain a
serious doubt, and he knew that for a long time he had done his best to
encourage it. It was unpardonable to draw aloof from her just because
these circumstances had declared themselves, circumstances which
brought perplexity into her life and doubtless made her long for
another kind of support than Michael could afford her. The old man
himself appeared to be waiting anxiously; he had fallen back into his
habit of long silences, and often regarded Sidney in a way which the
latter only too well understood.

He tried to help himself through the time of indecision by saying that
there was no hurry. Jane was very young, and with the new order of
things her life had in truth only just begun. She must have a space to
look about her; all the better if she could form various acquaintances.
On that account he urged so strongly that she should be brought into
relation with Miss Lant, and, if possible, with certain of Miss Lant's
friends. All very well, had not the reasoning been utterly insincere.
It might have applied to another person; in Jane's case it was mere
sophistry. Her nature was home-keeping; to force her into alliance with
conscious philanthropists was to set her in the falsest position
conceivable; striving to mould herself to the desires of those she
loved, she would suffer patiently and in secret mourn for the time when
she had been obscure and happy. These things Sidney knew with a
certainty only less than that wherewith he judged his own sensations;
between Jane and himself the sympathy was perfect. And in despite of
scruple he would before long have obeyed the natural impulse of his
heart, had it not been that still graver complications declared
themselves, and by exasperating his over-sensitive pride made him
reckless of the pain he gave to others so long as his own self-torture
was made sufficiently acute.

With Joseph Snowdon he was doing his best to be on genial terms, but
the task was a hard one. The more he saw of Joseph, the less he liked
him. Of late the filter manufacturer had begun to strike notes in his
conversation which jarred on Sidney's sensibilities, and made him
disagreeably suspicious that something more was meant than Joseph cared
to put into plain speech. Since his est