n to act upon this
girl so miraculously--nobody could tell, seeing the two together, what
it was in him which specially excited her--nobody who has made men and
women, his study would have wasted much time in the inquiry, knowing
that the affinities, attractions, and repulsions of men and women are
beyond all our science.

Brutally selfish is love, although so heroically self-sacrificing.
Miriam thought that if Andrew had not been such an idiot, the
relationship with Montgomery might have remained undisturbed. He might
still have continued to call, but how could she see him now? The
sufferer lay there unconscious, pleading for pity, as everything
lifeless or unconscious seems to plead--no dead dog in a kennel fails
to be tragic; but Miriam actually hated her brother, and cursed him in
her heart as a stone over which she had stumbled in the pursuit; of
something madly coveted but flying before her.

It was midnight. She went to the window and looked out. The
public-houses were being closed, and intoxicated or half-intoxicated
persons were groping their way homewards. Suddenly she caught sight of
one man whom she thought she recognised. He was with a woman, and his
arm was round her waist. Softly she opened the window, and as it was
only one story high, she caught a full view of him as he came under the
gaslight. It was Montgomery beyond a doubt. He reeled just a trifle,
and slowly disappeared in the gloom. The moment he had passed she was
not quite sure it was he. She went downstairs in the dark, having
taken off her shoes to prevent any noise. She put on her shoes again,
drew back the bolts softly, left the door upon the latch, and crept out
into the street. Swiftly she walked, and in a few moments she was
within half-a-dozen yards of those whom she followed. She could not
help being sure now. She continued on their track, her whole existence
absorbed in one single burning point, until she saw the pair disappear
into a house which she did not know. She stood stock still, till a
policeman was close upon her, and roused her from her reverie; and then
hardly knowing what she was doing, she went home, and returned to her
room. Every interest which she had in life had been allowed to die
under the shadow of this one. Every thought had taken one
direction--everything had been bitter or sweet by reference to one
object alone; and this gone, there followed utter collapse. She had no
friends, and probably if