able to find it. But, however this
may be, he had been scared, and now saw lions where there were none, and
was shocked and frightened, and night after night his courage had failed
him and he had returned to his lodgings in Laystall Street without
accomplishing his errand. He had not taken me into his confidence upon
this matter, and I had not enquired what he did with himself in the
evenings. At last he had concluded that, however painful it might be to
him, he would call on Mrs Jupp, who he thought would be able to help him
if anyone could. He had been walking moodily from seven till about nine,
and now resolved to go straight to Ashpit Place and make a mother
confessor of Mrs Jupp without more delay.

Of all tasks that could be performed by mortal woman there was none which
Mrs Jupp would have liked better than the one Ernest was thinking of
imposing upon her; nor do I know that in his scared and broken-down state
he could have done much better than he now proposed. Miss Jupp would
have made it very easy for him to open his grief to her; indeed, she
would have coaxed it all out of him before he knew where he was; but the
fates were against Mrs Jupp, and the meeting between my hero and his
former landlady was postponed _sine die_, for his determination had
hardly been formed and he had not gone more than a hundred yards in the
direction of Mrs Jupp's house, when a woman accosted him.

He was turning from her, as he had turned from so many others, when she
started back with a movement that aroused his curiosity. He had hardly
seen her face, but being determined to catch sight of it, followed her as
she hurried away, and passed her; then turning round he saw that she was
none other than Ellen, the housemaid who had been dismissed by his mother
eight years previously.

He ought to have assigned Ellen's unwillingness to see him to its true
cause, but a guilty conscience made him think she had heard of his
disgrace and was turning away from him in contempt. Brave as had been
his resolutions about facing the world, this was more than he was
prepared for; "What! you too shun me, Ellen?" he exclaimed.

The girl was crying bitterly and did not understand him. "Oh, Master
Ernest," she sobbed, "let me go; you are too good for the likes of me to
speak to now."

"Why, Ellen," said he, "what nonsense you talk; you haven't been in
prison, have you?"

"Oh, no, no, no, not so bad as that," she exclaimed passionately.