or
her, and from Stella she derived the support which enabled her to
pursue her path in peace--a path not one with Stella's. Before that
high-throned poet-soul Adela bent in humble reverence. Between Stella
and those toilers, however noble and devoted, there could be no question
of comparison. She was of those elect whose part it is to inspire faith
and hope, of those highest but for whom the world would fall into apathy
or lose itself among subordinate motives. Stella never spoke of herself;
Adela could not know whether she had ever stood at the severance of ways
and made deliberate choice. Probably not, for on her brow was visible
to all eyes the seal of election; how could she ever have doubted the
leading of that spirit that used her lips for utterance?

On the morning after her arrival in London Adela took a long journey by
herself to the far East End. Going by omnibus it seemed to her that she
was never to reach that street off Bow Road which she had occasion to
visit. But at last the conductor bade her descend, and gave her a brief
direction The thoroughfare she sought was poor but not squalid she saw
with pleasure that the house of which she had the number in mind was, if
anything, cleaner and more homelike in appearance than its neighbours. A
woman replied to her knock.

She asked if Miss Vine was at home.

'Yes, mum; she's at 'ome. Shall I tell her, or will you go up?'

'I will go up, thank you. Which room is it?'

'Second floor front you'll find her.'

Adela ascended. Standing at the door she heard the hum of a
sewing-machine. It made her heart sink, so clearly did it speak of
incessant monotonous labour.

She knocked loudly. The machine did not stop, but she was bidden to
enter.

Emma was at work, one of her sister's children sitting by her, writing
on a slate. She had expected the appearance of the landlady; seeing who
the visitor was, she let her hands fall abruptly; an expression of pain
passed over her features.

Adela went up to her and kissed her forehead, then exchanged a few words
with the child. Emma placed a chair for her, but without speaking. The
room was much like the other in which the sisters had lived, save that
it had a brighter outlook. There were the two beds and the table covered
with work.

'Do you find it better here?' Adela began by asking.

'Yes, it is better,' Emma replied quietly. 'We manage to get a good
deal of work, and it isn't badly paid.'

The voice was not unc