ayment of her debt. Maggie was strictly honourable. She had got a little
work, she said, and hoped soon to have it regularly. And soon she began
to return to him, weekly, the half of her allowance. These sums he put by
for her, adding the interest. Some day there would be a modest hoard for
Maggie. He pleased himself, now and then, by wondering what the girl
would do with it. Buy a wedding-gown perhaps, when she married Mr.
Mumford. Time, he felt, was Mr. Mumford's best ally. In time, when she
had forgotten Gorst, Maggie would marry him.

Maggie's small business entailed a correspondence out of all proportion
to it. He had not yet gone to see her. Some day, he supposed, he would
have to go, to see whether the girl, as he phrased it vaguely, was
"really all right." With little creatures like Maggie you never could be
sure. There would always be the possibility of Gorst's successor, and he
had no desire to make Maggie's maintenance easier for him. He had made
her independent of all iniquitous sources of revenue.

At last, suddenly, the postal orders and the letters ceased; for three
weeks, four, five weeks. Then Majendie began to feel uneasy. He would
have to look her up.

Then one morning, early in September, a letter was brought to him at the
office (Maggie's letters were always addressed to the office, never to
his house). There was no postal order with it. For three weeks Maggie
had been ill, then she had been very poorly, very weak, too weak to sit
long at work. And so she had lost what work she had; but she hoped to get
more when she was strong again. When she was strong the repayments would
begin again, said Maggie. She hoped Mr. Majendie would forgive her for
not having sent any for so long. She was very sorry. But, if it wasn't
too much to ask, she would be very glad if Mr. Majendie would come some
day and see her.

He sent her an extra remittance by the bearer, and went to see her the
next day. His conscience reproached him for not having gone before.

Mrs. Morse, the landlady, received him with many appearances of relief.
In her mind he was evidently responsible for Maggie. He was the guardian,
the benefactor, the sender of rent.

"She's been very ill, sir," said Mrs. Morse; "but she wouldn't 'ave you
written to till she was better."

"Why not?"

"I'm sure I can't say, sir, wot 'er feeling was."

It struck him as strange and pathetic that Maggie could have a feeling.
He was soon to know that she had l