for supplying the poor with a certain excellent
filter at a price all but nominal; who did not know the benefit to
humble homes of pure water for use as a beverage? The filter was not
made yet, but Lake, Snowdon, & Co., had it under their consideration.

Michael kept his room a good deal in these wretched days of winter, so
that Joseph had no difficulty in obtaining private interviews with his
daughter. Every such occasion he used assiduously, his great end being
to possess himself of Jane's confidence. He did not succeed quite so
well with the girl as with her grandfather; there was always a reserve
in her behaviour which as yet he found it impossible to overcome.
Observation led him to conclude that much of this arose from the view
she took of his relations with Sidney Kirkwood. Jane was in love with
Sidney; on that point he could have no doubt; and in all likelihood she
regarded him as unfriendly to Sidney's suit--women are so shrewd in
these affairs. Accordingly, Joseph made it his business by artful
degrees to remove this prepossession from her mind. In the course of
this endeavour he naturally pressed into his service the gradually
discovered fact that Sidney had scruples of conscience regarding Jane's
fortune. Marvellous as it appeared to him, he had all but come to the
conclusion that this _was_ a fact. Now, given Jane's character, which
he believed he had sounded; given her love for Kirkwood, which was
obviously causing her anxiety and unhappiness; Joseph saw his way to an
admirable piece of strategy. What could be easier, if he played his
cards well and patiently enough, than to lead Jane to regard the
fortune as her most threatening enemy? Valuable results might come of
that, whether before or after the death of the old man.

The conversation in which he first ventured to strike this note
undisguisedly took place on the same evening as that unpleasant scene
when Sidney as good as quarrelled with him--the evening before the day
on which Sidney asked Clara Hewett to be his wife. Having found Jane
alone, he began to talk in his most paternal manner, his chair very
near hers, his eyes fixed on her sewing. And presently, when the ground
was prepared:

'Jane, there's something I've been wanting to say to you for a long
time. My dear, I'm uneasy about you.'

'Uneasy, father?' and she glanced at him nervously.

'Yes, I'm uneasy. But whether I ought to tell you why, I'm sure I don't
know. You're my own child, Jan