se, and
reject, in the hour when any friend would have been better than none!

In the first ten minutes of the new life which Rachel Minchin began with
her acquittal, she had refused to see her own solicitor, and an unknown
gentleman whose card was brought to her by the Chief Warder himself.
With the card was a message which might have inspired confidence, and
the same might be said of the address. But it was enough for Rachel that
she knew no one of the name. The Chief Warder, one of the kindliest
mortals, displayed no little irritation under her repeated refusals; but
it was the agent, and not the principal, who was so importunate; and the
message was not repeated once the former could be induced to bear Mrs.
Minchin's answer. The Chief Warder did indeed return, but it was not to
make any further reference to the mysterious Mr. Steel who had craved an
interview with Mrs. Minchin. And now the good fellow was all smiles.

"Feeling more yourself?" said he; and, when Rachel said she was, he
asked her to listen now; and there was nothing to listen to. "The
coast's as clear as the Criminal Court," explained this pleasant
official. "A closed cab did it, with an officer on the box; and I'll
call you another as soon as you like."

Rachel rose at once.

"It was kind of you to let me stay so long," she said. "But I don't
think I will take a cab, thank you, if there's an underground station
within reach, and you will kindly tell me the way."

"There's Blackfriars Bridge within five minutes. But you will have more
than you can carry--"

"I have nothing worth taking away with me," said Rachel, "except the
things I stand up in; but you may give what I leave to any poor woman
who cares to have them. And I hope you will accept this trifle for
yourself, with my deep gratitude for all your kindness."

Indeed, the man had been kind, and his kindness would have continued to
the last had the trial ended differently. Nevertheless, Rachel's trifle
was a piece of gold, and one of her last. Nor was this pure generosity.
There was an untold joy in being able to give again. It was the first
real taste of freedom; and in another minute Rachel was free.

Oh, but what a miracle to hear her feet on the now deserted pavement, to
see her breath in the raw November night, and the lights of Ludgate Hill
beyond! Rachel raised her veil to see them better. Who would look for
her afoot so near the scene of her late ordeal? And what did it matter
wh