I dressed I listened for a sound from the adjoining room. All was
quiet now. The poor restless ones were at last getting a little rest.

A few minutes afterwards I passed on tiptoe through their room without
looking towards the bed, and reaching the door to the staircase I opened
it as noiselessly as I could.

Then I closed it softly after me, on so much suffering and so much love.

ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND CHAPTER

The sun was shining in the street. It was one of those clear, clean,
frosty mornings when the very air of London, even in the worst places,
seems to be washed by the sunlight from the sin and drink of the night
before.

I was on my way to that church among the mews of Mayfair to which I had
gone so frequently during the early days of my marriage when I was
struggling against the mortal sin (as I thought it was) of loving
Martin.

Just as I reached the church and was ascending the steps, a gorgeous
landau with high-stepping horses and a powdered footman drew up at the
bottom of them.

The carriage, which bore a coronet on the door, contained a lady in long
furs, a rosy-faced baby-girl in squirrel skins with a large doll in her
arms, and a nurse.

I could see that, like myself, the lady (a young mother) had come to
confess, for as she rose from her seat she told the child to sit quiet
and be good and she would not keep her long.

"Tum out soon, mummy, and dolly will lub you eber and eber," said the
child.

The lady stooped and kissed the little one, and then, with a proud and
happy look, stepped out of the carriage and passed into the church,
while the door-keeper opened the vestibule door for her and bowed
deeply.

I stood at the top of the steps for a moment looking back at the
carriage, the horses, the footman, the nurse, and, above all, the
baby-girl with her doll, and then followed the lady into the church.

Apparently mass was just over. Little spirelets of smoke were rising
from the candles on the altar which the sacristan was putting out, a few
communicants were still on their knees, and others with light yet
echoing footsteps were making for the door.

The lady in furs had already taken her place at one of the confessional
boxes, and as there seemed to be no other that was occupied by a priest,
I knelt on a chair in the nave and tried to fix my mind on the prayers
(once so familiar) for the examination of conscience before confession:

"_Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, dispel the darkne