was a tender-hearted man,
and it would have been very easy to him just then to have given her some
friendly, comforting words, or even----

Yes, he acknowledged to himself, he would have liked to kiss those soft
lips of hers, those downcast eyelids, slightly reddened by recent tears!
And he did not think that she would resent the caress.

But how could he ask his wife to return to him if he did this thing? As
he had indicated by his words, he still loved Lady Alice. He had the
courage to be faithful to her, too. For Caspar Brooke was a man of
strong convictions, steadfast will, and stainless honor. However great
the temptation might be, he was not going to do a thing that he knew he
should afterwards regret.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Romaine."

"Good-bye, Mr. Brooke."

So they took leave of each other; and Rosalind went to bed with a bad
headache, while Caspar Brooke returned home to find fault with his
daughter Lesley.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE WIFE OF FRANCIS TRENT.

Far away from the eminently respectable quarter of London, adorned by
the habitation of families like the Brookes, the Kenyons, and the
Romaines, you may find an unsavory district in Whitechapel which is
known as Truefit Row. It is a street of tall and mean-looking houses,
which seem to be toppling to their fall; and the pavement is strewn with
garbage which is seldom cleared away. Many of the windows of the houses
are broken; many of the doors hang ajar, for the floors are let out in
flats, and there is a common stair for at least five and twenty
families. It is a dreary-looking place, and the dwellers therein look as
dreary as their own abode.

In one of these houses Mr. Francis Trent had found a resting-place for
the sole of his foot. It was not a fashionable lodging, not even a
particularly clean one; but he had come down in the world, and did not
very much care where he lived, so long as he had plenty to drink, and a
little money in his pockets. But these commodities were not as plentiful
as he wanted them to be. Therefore he passed a good deal of his time in
a state of chronic brooding and discontent.

He had one room on the third storey. The woodwork of this apartment was
so engrained with grime that scarcely any amount of washing would have
made it look clean; but it had certainly been washed within a
comparatively recent date. The wall paper, which had peeled off in
certain places, had also been repaired by a careful hand; and the
curtains