journey after dark.

'I know some one who would very much like to go,' said Jessica,
steadying her voice. 'Could you spare me a ticket to give away, Mr
Barmby?'

Samuel smiled graciously, and promised the ticket.

Of course it was for Jessica's own use. On the following evening,
long before the hour which would have allowed her ample time to reach
Pentonville by eight o'clock, she set forth excitedly. Unless Samuel
Barmby were accompanied by some friend from Camberwell,--only too
probable,--she might hope to make the return journey under his
protection. Perhaps he would speak again of Nancy Lord, and this time he
should be answered with less reserve. What harm if she even told him the
name of the man whom Nancy was 'engaged' to marry?

Nancy was no longer her friend. A show of reconciliation had followed
that scene on the Sunday afternoon three months ago; but Jessica well
knew that she had put herself beyond forgiveness, nor did she desire it.
Even without the memory of her offence, by this time she must needs have
regarded Nancy with steadfast dislike. Weeks had gone by since their
last meeting, which was rendered so unpleasant by mutual coldness that a
renewal of intercourse seemed out of the question.

She would not be guilty of treachery. But, in justice to herself, she
might give Samuel Barmby to understand how hopeless was his wooing.

To her disappointment, the lecture-room was small and undignified; she
had imagined a capacious hall, with Samuel Bennett Barmby standing up
before an audience of several hundred people. The cane-bottomed chairs
numbered not more than fifty, and at eight o'clock some of them were
still unoccupied. Nor did the assembly answer to her expectation. It
seemed to consist of young shopmen, with a few females of their kind
interspersed. She chose a place in the middle of the room, where the
lecturer could hardly fail to observe her presence.

With Barmby's entrance disillusion gave way before the ardours of flesh
and spirit. The whole hour through she never took her eyes from him.
His smooth, pink face, with its shining moustache, embodied her ideal of
manly beauty; his tall figure inflamed her senses; the words that fell
from his lips sounded to her with oracular impressiveness, conveying
a wisdom before which she bowed, and a noble enthusiasm to which she
responded in fervent exaltation. And she had been wont to ridicule this
man, to join in mockery of his eloquence with a conceit