fortunate.
One of those financial crashes which are common in America caused his
total ruin.'

Jane drew a deep breath.

'I am sorry to say that is not all. The excitement of the days when his
fate was hanging in the balance led to illness--fatal illness. He died
on the sixth of February.'

Jane, with her eyes bent down, was motionless. After a pause,
Scawthorne continued:

'I will speak of this with Mr. Percival to-morrow, and every inquiry
shall be made--on your behalf.'

'Thank you, sir.'

She rose, very pale, but with more self-command than on entering the
room. The latter part of his communication seemed to have affected her
as a relief.

'Miss Snowdon--if you would allow me to say a few more words. You will
remember I mentioned to you that there was a prospect of my becoming a
partner in the firm which I have hitherto served as clerk. A certain
examination had to be passed that I might be admitted a solicitor. That
is over; in a few days my position as a member of the firm will be
assured.'

Jane waited, her eyes still east down.

'I feel that it may seem to you an ill-chosen time; but the very fact
that I have just been the bearer of such sad news impels me to speak. I
cannot keep the promise that I would never revive the subject on which
I spoke to you not long ago. Forgive me; I _must_ ask you again if you
cannot think of me as I wish? Miss Snowdon, will you let me devote
myself to making your life happy? It has always seemed to me that if I
could attain a position such as I now have, there would be little else
to ask for. I began life poor and half-educated, and you cannot imagine
the difficulties I have overcome. But if I go away from this house, and
leave you so lonely, living such a hard life, there will be very little
satisfaction for me in my success. Let me try to make for you a
happiness such as you merit. It may seem as if we were very slightly
acquainted, but I know you well enough to esteem you more highly than
any women I ever met, and if you could but think of me--'

He was sincere. Jane had brought out the best in him. With the death of
Snowdon all his disreputable past seemed swept away, and he had no
thought of anything but a decent rectitude, a cleanly enjoyment of
existence, for the future, but Jane was answering:

'I can't change what I said before, Mr. Scawthorne. I am very content
to live as I do now. I have friends I am very fond of. Thank you for
your kindness--but I can't