It made her sad; it caused her to look forward to his future with an anxious heart.

It was so different from the kind of anxiety, and yet settled repose, with which she thought of the only other man in whose future she felt the smallest interest.

Of Robert Lyon, she was certain that whatever misfortune visited him he would bear it in the best way it could be borne; whatever temptation assailed him he would fight against it as a brave and good Christian should fight.

But Ascott?
Ascott's life was as yet an unanswered query.

She could but leave it in Omnipotent hands.
So she found her way home, asking it once or twice of civil policemen, and going a little distance round--dare I make this romantic confession about so sensible and practical a little woman ?--that she might walk once up Burton Street and down again.