you be kind to me?'

'Kind?'

'I didn't mean that,' she added hurriedly. 'I mean--will you understand
that I felt it a duty? I oughtn't to tell a secret; but it's a secret
that oughtn't to be kept. Will you understand that I did it out of--out
of friendship for you, and because I thought it right?'

'Oh, certainly. After going so far, you had better tell me and have done
with it.'

Jessica approached her lips to his ear, and whispered:

'She is married.'

'What? Impossible!'

'She was married at Teignmouth, just before she came back from her
holiday, last year.'

'Well! Upon my word! And that's why she has been away in Cornwall?'

Again Jessica whispered, her body quivering the while:

'She has a child. It was born last May.'

'Well! Upon my word! Now I understand. Who could have imagined!'

'You see what she is. She hides it for the sake of the money.'

'But who is her husband?' asked Samuel, staring at the bloodless face.

'A man called Tarrant, a relative of Mr. Vawdrey, of Champion Hill. She
thought he was rich. I don't know whether he is or not, but I believe he
doesn't mean to come back to her. He's in America now.'

Barmby questioned, and Jessica answered, until there was nothing left
to ask or to tell,--save the one thing which rose suddenly to Jessica's
lips.

'You won't let her know that I have told you?'

Samuel gravely, but coldly, assured her that she need not fear betrayal.

CHAPTER 3

It was to be in three volumes. She saw her way pretty clearly to the end
of the first; she had ideas for the second; the third must take care
of itself--until she reached it. Hero and heroine ready to her hand;
subordinate characters vaguely floating in the background. After an hour
or two of meditation, she sat down and dashed at Chapter One.

Long before the end of the year it ought to be finished.

But in August came her baby's first illness; for nearly a fortnight she
was away from home, and on her return, though no anxiety remained, she
found it difficult to resume work. The few chapters completed had a
sorry look; they did not read well, not at all like writing destined
to be read in print. After a week's disheartenment she made a new
beginning.

At the end of September baby again alarmed her. A trivial ailment as
before, but she could not leave the child until all was well. Again
she reviewed her work, and with more repugnance than after the previous
interruption. But go on with it