h, even in its best aspects,
was not gentle, from a proud dislike to confess failure, she said
nothing of the evil courses which Jasper had renewed. Evidently she was
always near him. Evidently, by some means or another, his life, furtive
and dark, was ever under the glare of her watchful eyes.

Meanwhile Sophy had been presented to Caroline Montfort. As Waife had so
fondly anticipated, the lone childless lady had taken with kindness and
interest to the fair motherless child. Left to herself often for months
together in the grand forlorn house, Caroline soon found an object to
her pensive walks in the basket-maker's cottage. Sophy's charming face
and charming ways stole more and more into affections which were denied
all nourishment at home. She entered into Waife's desire to improve, by
education, so exquisite a nature; and, familiarity growing by degrees,
Sophy was at length coaxed up to the great house; and during the hours
which Waife devoted to his rambles (for even in his settled industry
he could not conquer his vagrant tastes, but would weave his reeds or
osiers as he sauntered through solitudes of turf or wood), became the
docile delighted pupil in the simple chintz room which Lady Montfort had
reclaimed from the desert of her surrounding palace. Lady Montfort was
not of a curious turn of mind; profoundly indifferent even to the gossip
of drawing-rooms, she had no rankling desire to know the secrets
of village hearthstones. Little acquainted even with the great
world--scarcely at all with any world below that in which she had her
being, save as she approached humble sorrows by delicate charity--the
contrast between Waife's calling and his conversation roused in her no
vigilant suspicions. A man of some education, and born in a rank that
touched upon the order of gentlemen, but of no practical or professional
culture--with whimsical tastes--with roving eccentric habits--had, in
the course of life, picked up much harmless wisdom, but, perhaps from
want of worldly prudence, failed of fortune. Contented with an obscure
retreat and a humble livelihood, he might naturally be loth to confide
to others the painful history of a descent in life. He might have
relations in a higher sphere, whom the confession would shame; he might
be silent in the manly pride which shrinks from alms and pity and a tale
of fall. Nay, grant the worst--grant that Waife had suffered in repute
as well as fortune--grant that his character had be