st and
preparing to set out on her long walk. There was no conveyance as the
stage coach on the Great North Road through Highgate and Finchley did
not start until later in the day, and Hannah, a good hearted soul never
so happy as when helping others, gave Lavinia all the money she could
spare with which to pay her sister-in-law a small sum every week.

"I don't know what I should do but for you, Hannah dear," said Lavinia
gratefully. "It's shameful to take your money, but I swear I'll pay back
every penny, and before long too."

"Yes, when you've married a rich man."

"No, no. I'm not thinking of being married. I shall be earning money
soon."

"Tilly vally! How, miss, may I ask?"

"Ah, that's a secret. Mr. Gay says so and he ought to know."

"It's well if he does. Your Mr. Gay seems to be taking a mighty deal of
notice of you. I only hope it'll all end well," said Hannah with a
solemn shake of the head.

"End well? Indeed it will. Why shouldn't it?"

Lavinia laughed confidently, and her joyful tone and her face so bright
with its contrast with her desolate condition brought a furtive tear to
Hannah's eye, but she took care not to let the girl see it.

The morning had broken fair and by seven o'clock Lavinia was trudging
along Holborn on her way to Hampstead through what is known now as
Tottenham Court Road, then little more than a wide country lane.

At Great Turnstile she lingered and her eyes wandered down the narrow
passage. Great Turnstile led to Lincoln's Inn Fields, and in Portugal
Row on the south side of the "Fields" was the Duke's Theatre.
Association of ideas was too strong to be resisted. Thinking of the
theatre, how could she help also thinking of Gay's encouragement as to
herself--of Lancelot Vane and his tragedy?

Another thought was lurking at the back of her mind. She had gone to
sleep dwelling upon her promise to meet Vane at Rosamond's Pond. Did she
mean to keep that promise? She could not decide. She had given her
consent under a sort of compulsion. Was it therefore binding? At any
rate if she went to Hampstead the meeting was impossible.

It was this last reflection which made her linger. Reasons for altering
her plans chased each other through her brain. The poor fellow would be
so disappointed if he did not see her. How long would he wait? How
wretched his garret would appear when he returned disconsolate! His
despondency might drive him to break _his_ promise to her. Where was the