thought it very unlikely that she would see me. I thought
it highly probable, on the contrary, that she would honor me with
an interview in her own interests, if I sent in my name as 'Miss
Gwilt'--and the event proved that I was right. After being kept waiting
some minutes I was shown into the drawing-room.

"There sat Mother Jezebel, with the air of a woman resting on the
high-road to heaven, dressed in a slate-colored gown, with gray mittens
on her hands, a severely simple cap on her head, and a volume of sermons
on her lap. She turned up the whites of her eyes devoutly at the sight
of me, and the first words she said were--'Oh, Lydia! Lydia! why are you
not at church?'

"If I had been less anxious, the sudden presentation of Mrs. Oldershaw
in an entirely new character might have amused me. But I was in no
humor for laughing, and (my notes of hand being all paid) I was under
no obligation to restrain my natural freedom of speech. 'Stuff and
nonsense!' I said. 'Put your Sunday face in your pocket. I have got some
news for you, since I last wrote from Thorpe Ambrose.'

"The instant I mentioned 'Thorpe Ambrose,' the whites of the old
hypocrite's eyes showed themselves again, and she flatly refused to
hear a word more from me on the subject of my proceedings in Norfolk. I
insisted; but it was quite useless. Mother Oldershaw only shook her
head and groaned, and informed me that her connection with the pomps and
vanities of the world was at an end forever. 'I have been born again,
Lydia,' said the brazen old wretch, wiping her eyes. 'Nothing will
induce me to return to the subject of that wicked speculation of yours
on the folly of a rich young man.'

"After hearing this, I should have left her on the spot, but for one
consideration which delayed me a moment longer.

"It was easy to see, by this time, that the circumstances (whatever they
might have been) which had obliged Mother Oldershaw to keep in hiding,
on the occasion of my former visit to London, had been sufficiently
serious to force her into giving up, or appearing to give up, her old
business. And it was hardly less plain that she had found it to her
advantage--everybody in England finds it to their advantage in some way
to cover the outer side of her character carefully with a smooth varnish
of Cant. This was, however, no business of mine; and I should have made
these reflections outside instead of inside the house, if my interests
had not been involved in p