to speak to you.'

It was a face that told of many troubles. Sidney might resolutely keep
a bright countenance, but there was no hiding the sallowness of his
cheeks and the lines drawn by ever-wakeful anxiety. The effect of a
struggle with mean necessities is seldom anything but degradation, in
look and in character; but Sidney's temper, and the conditions of his
life, preserved him against that danger. His features, worn into
thinness, seem to present more distinctly than ever their points of
refinement. You saw that he was habitually a grave and silent man; all
the more attractive his aspect when, as now, he seemed to rest from
thought and give expression to his natural kindliness. In the matter of
attire he was no longer as careful as he used to be; the clothes he
wore had done more than just service, and hung about him unregarded.

'Clara upstairs?' he asked, when he had noticed Hewett's look.

'Yes; she's lying down. May's been troublesome all the morning. But it
was something else I meant.'

And John began to speak of Amy's ill-doing. He had always in some
degree a sense of shame when he spoke privately with Sidney, always
felt painfully the injustice involved in their relations. At present he
could not look Kirkwood in the face, and his tone was that of a man who
abases himself to make confession of guilt.

Sidney was gravely concerned. It was his habit to deal with the
children's faults good-naturedly, to urge John not to take a sombre
view of their thoughtlessness; but the present instance could not be
made light of. Secretly he had always expected that the girl would be a
source of more serious trouble the older she grew. He sat in silence,
leaning forward, his eyes bent down.

'It's no good whatever _I_ say,' lamented Hewett. 'They don't heed me.
Why must I have children like these? Haven't I always done my best to
teach them to be honest and good-hearted? If I'd spent my life in the
worst ways a man can, they couldn't have turned out more worthless.
Haven't I wished always what was right and good and true? Haven't I
always spoke up for justice in the world? Haven't I done what I could,
Sidney, to be helpful to them as fell into misfortune? And now in my
old age I'm only a burden, and the children as come after me are
nothing but a misery to all as have to do with them. If it wasn't for
Clara I feel I couldn't live my time out. She's the one that pays me
back for the love I've given her. All the others-