the City; over Snow Hill and Holborn Bridge, and down Shoe
Lane to the small house where Mr Marshall "had his lodging"--to use the
phrase of the time--in other words, where he and Agnes made their home
in three rooms, the kitchen being open to all the lodgers to cook for
themselves. Two of the rooms were moderately large; these formed the
sitting-room, and the clergyman's bedroom and study, the bedroom end
being parted from the study end by a curtain between the two. The
remaining room, a mere closet, was his daughter's bedchamber.
Pleasantest of the three was the sitting-room, the front half of which
was the general and public portion, while the back was reserved as
Agnes's boudoir, where her little work-table and stool were set by a
small window, looking out over the little garden towards Fetter Lane,
bounded on the right hand by the wall of Saint Andrew's Church. The
door was opened by a rather slipshod girl, the landlady's daughter.

"Pray you, is Mr Marshall at home?"

"He's not, Sir; he's gone for a country walk."

"What time look you for him?"

"Well, about dark, I dare say. Mrs Agnes, she's in."

"Thank you; I will come again about dusk." Aubrey walked up the lane,
turned aimlessly to the left, and sauntered on towards Bloomsbury. It
was no matter where he went--no matter to any one, himself least of all.
Passing Saint Giles's Church, he turned to the right, up a broad
country road lined by flowery banks, wherein the first primroses of
spring were just beginning to appear. There are primroses there yet--in
flower-girls' baskets: they bloom now no otherwise in Tottenham Court
Road.

When he had gone some little distance, Aubrey grew tired. It was a warm
day for the season; he sat down to rest on the flowery bank, and lost
himself in unhappy thought.

A mile further on, Mr Marshall was coming home down the same road, in a
more despondent mood than was usual with him. Things were going badly
for the Puritans abroad, and for the Marshalls at home. An ejected
minister was at all times an unfashionable person, and usually a very
poor man. His income was small, was growing smaller, and was not at all
likely to take a turn and increase. His wife was gone, and he felt her
loss rather more than less as time passed on; and Agnes had her private
trouble, for her affianced husband, a young tradesman to whom she had
been engaged for two years, had jilted her when he heard of her father's
ejectment. Altoge