ew more volleys of
atrocious language was content to retire. Having slammed the door upon
her, Bessie cried in a trembling voice:

'Oh, if only Sam had been here! My, how I should have liked Sam to have
been here! _Wouldn't_ he have given her something for herself! Why,
such a creature oughtn't be left loose. Oh, if Sam had been here!'

Jane had sat down on the stairs; her face was hidden in her hands. That
brutal voice had carried her back to her wretched childhood; everything
about her in the present was unreal in comparison with the terrors, the
hardships, the humiliations revived by memory. As she sat at this
moment, so had she sat many a time on the cellar-steps at Mrs.
Peckover's. So powerfully was her imagination affected that she had a
feeling as if her hands were grimy from toil, as if her limbs ached.
Oh, that dreadful voice! Was she never, never to escape beyond hearing
of it?

'Jane, my dear, come into the sitting-room,' said Bessie 'No wonder
it's upset you. What _can_ it all mean?'

The meaning was not far to seek; Jane understood everything--yes, even
her father's hypocrisies. She listened for a few minutes to her
friend's indignant exclamations, then looked up, her resolve taken.

'Mrs. Byass, I shall take no more money. I shall go to work again and
earn my living. How thankful I am that I can!'

'Why, what nonsense are you talking, child! Just because that--that
_creature_--Why, I've no patience with you, Jane! As if she durst touch
you! Touch you? I'd like to see her indeed.'

'It isn't that, Mrs. Byass. I can't take money from father. I haven't
felt easy in my mind ever since he told me about it, and now I _can't_
take the money. Whether it's true or not, all she said, I should never
have a night's rest if I consented to live in this way.'

'Oh, you _don't_ really mean it, Jane?'

Bessie all but sobbed with vexation.

'I mean it, and I shall never alter my mind. I shall send back the
money, and write to the man that he needn't send any more. However
often it comes, I shall always return it. I couldn't, I couldn't live
on that money! Never ask me to, Mrs. Byass.'

Practical Bessie had already begun to ask herself what arrangement Jane
proposed to make about lodgings. She was no Mrs. Peckover, but neither
did circumstances allow her to disregard the question of rent. It cut
her to the heart to think of refusing an income of two pounds per week.

Jane too saw all the requirements of the cas