d for
Africa. This damsel's presence was most disagreeable to Kate, and,
indeed, to John Girdlestone also, who only retained her on account of
his son's strong views upon the subject, and out of fear of an explosion
which might wreck all his plans.

The old merchant was Kate's only companion during this period, and their
conversation was usually limited to a conventional inquiry at breakfast
time as to each other's health. On his return from the City in the
evening Girdlestone was always in a moody humour, and would eat his
dinner hastily and in silence. After dinner he was in the habit of
reading methodically the various financial articles in the day's papers,
which would occupy him until bedtime. Occasionally his companion would
read these aloud to him, and such was the monotony of her uneventful
life that she found herself becoming insensibly interested in the
fluctuations of Grand Trunk scrip or Ohio and Delaware shares.
The papers once exhausted, a bell was rung to summon the domestics, and
when all were assembled the merchant, in a hard metallic voice, read
through the lesson for the day and the evening prayers. On grand
occasions he supplemented this by a short address, in the course of
which he would pelt his frightened audience with hard jagged texts until
he had reduced them to a fitting state of spiritual misery. No wonder
that, under the influence of such an existence, the roses began to fade
from his ward's cheeks, and her youthful heart to grow sad and heavy.

One daily tonic there was, however, which never deserted her.
Strictly as Girdlestone guarded her, and jealously as he fenced her off
from the outer world, he was unable to prevent this one little ray of
light penetrating her prison. With an eye to the future he had so
placed her that it seemed to him to be impossible that any sympathy
could reach her from the outside world. Visits and visitors were alike
forbidden to her. On no consideration was she to venture out alone.
In spite of all his precautions, however, love has many arts and wiles
which defy all opposition, and which can outplot the deepest of
plotters.

Eccleston Square was by no means in a direct line between Kensington and
the City, yet morning and evening, as sure as the clock pointed to
half-past nine and to quarter to six, Tom would stride through the
old-fashioned square and past the grim house, whose grimness was
softened to his eyes through its association with the bri