ordering on revenge, that it was to her that Sophy owed an
asylum obscure and humble) might not revive, if she learned that
the child of a detested rival was raised above the necessity of her
protection, and brought within view of that station so much Loftier than
her own, from which she had once rejoiced to know that the offspring of
a marriage which had darkened her life was excluded. For indeed it had
been only on Waife's promise that he would not repeat the attempt that
had proved so abortive, to enforce Sophy's claim on Guy Darrell, that
Arabella Crane had in the first instance resigned the child to his care.
His care--his--an attainted outcast! As long as Arabella Crane could see
in Sophy but an object of compassion, she might haughtily protect her;
but, could Sophy become an object of envy, would that protection last?
No, he did not venture to confide in Mrs. Crane further than to say
that he and Sophy had removed from Montfort village to the vicinity of
London. Time enough to say more when Mrs. Crane returned to England; and
then, not by letter, but in personal interview.

Once a month the old man went to London to inquire at the General
Post-office for any communications his correspondent might there address
to him. Only once, however, had he heard from Mrs. Crane since the
announcement of his migration, and her note of reply was extremely
brief, until in the fatal month of June, when Guy Darrell and Jasper
Losely had alike returned, and on the same day, to the metropolis;
and then the old man received from her a letter which occasioned him
profound alarm. It apprised him not only that his terrible son was in
England--in London; but that Jasper had discovered that the persons
embarked for America were not the veritable Waife and Sophy whose names
they had assumed. Mrs. Crane ended with these ominous words: "It is
right to say now that he has descended deeper and deeper. Could you
see him, you would wonder that I neither abandon him nor my resolve.
He hates me worse than the gibbet. To me and not to the gibbet he shall
pass--fitting punishment to both. I am in London, not in my old house,
but near him. His confidant is my hireling. His life and his projects
are clear to my eyes--clear as if he dwelt in glass. Sophy is now of
an age in which, were she placed in the care of some person whose
respectability could not be impunged, she could not be legally forced
away against her will; but if under your roof, those wh