ned to place the boy out
of the reach of such temptation as a pretty girl living beneath the same
roof must always offer to susceptible youth; and hence it was that Mrs.
Coe had engaged new lodgings. But even now, so lightly did his father
think of the matter, that Charley was still to be permitted to visit at
Mr. Aird's daily, and take his drawing-lessons as heretofore.

An excuse for the change of residence had been afforded in the fact that
Soho was too far from the parks, in which alone Mrs. Coe took pleasure
in walking. She was quite unaccustomed to town life, and the roar and
tumult of the streets annoyed and even alarmed her. In some respects,
indeed, she was even a more nervous, timid creature than she had been as
a girl; the warning just received from Mrs. Yorke had not fallen upon
her altogether unexpectedly, though she could not have been said to be
prepared for it. A vague apprehension of Richard's vengeance had haunted
her whole married life; she did not fear for her own safety; something
told her that his anger would scorn to harm herself; that it would pass
over her head like a flaming sword, and smite her husband and her boy;
and as face after face passed by her in the crowded street, she would
shrink and tremble, thinking that that of Richard Yorke would come one
day, and recognize her own, and track it home. Was he not fated to work
their common ruin? Did not the spectre ship cross Turlock Sands before
she met his face for the first time? Though so mature in years, Harry
was indeed as superstitious as ever. A curious instance of this occurred
on the day that the Coes moved into their new lodgings. The mother and
son had arrived first--Solomon being engaged in the City until
evening--and Charley had strolled into the ground-floor parlor, while
the landlady (whom he had not yet seen) was engaged with his mother up
stairs in the distribution of the luggage. Above the chimney-piece hung
that striking if not attractive portrait of Joanna Southcott and her
amanuensis, with which we are already acquainted; and it tickled the
young man's fancy amazingly. He concluded it was a family group--the
likeness, perhaps, of Mrs. Basil and her late husband engaged in making
out their weekly accounts. "I will beg Agnes not to be jealous of our
charming landlady," thought he, and took out his note-book with the
intention of transferring the likeness for that young lady's amusement.
While engaged in this occupation the door