The talk of the two ladies went on, without a suspicion on either side that it was overheard by a third person.

Sydney explained herself.

“If I had led a happier life,” she said, “I might have been able to resist Mr. Linley’s kindness.  I concealed nothing from him.  He knew that I had no friends to speak for me; he knew that I had been dismissed from my employment at the school.  Oh, Mrs. Linley, everything I said which would have made other people suspicious of me made him feel for me!  I began to wonder whether he was an angel or a man.  If he had not prevented it, I should have fallen on my knees before him.  Hard looks and hard words I could have endured patiently, but I had not seen a kind look, I had not heard a kind word, for more years than I can reckon up.  That is all I can say for myself; I leave the rest to your mercy.”

“Say my sympathy,” Mrs. Linley answered, “and you need say no more..  But there is one thing I should like to know.  You have not spoken to me of your mother.  Have you lost both your parents?”

“No.”

“Then you were brought up by your mother?”

“Yes.”

“You surely had some experience of kindness when you were a child?”

A third short answer would have been no very grateful return for Mrs. Linley’s kindness.  Sydney had no choice but to say plainly what her experience of her mother had been.

“Are there such women in the world!” Mrs. Linley exclaimed.  “Where is your mother now?”

“In America—­I think.”

“You think?”

“My mother married again,” said Sydney.  “She went to America with her husband and my little brother, six years ago.”

“And left you behind?”

“Yes.”

“And has she never written to you;”

“Never.”

This time, Mrs. Linley kept silence; not without an effort.  Thinking of Sydney’s mother—­and for one morbid moment seeing her own little darling in Sydney’s place—­she was afraid to trust herself to speak while the first impression was vividly present to her mind.

“I will only hope,” she replied, after waiting a little, “that some kind person pitied and helped you when you were deserted.  Any change must have been for the better after that.  Who took charge of you?”

“My mother’s sister took charge of me, an elder sister, who kept a school.  The time when I was most unhappy was the time when my aunt began to teach me.  ’If you don’t want to be beaten, and kept on bread and water,’ she said, ’learn, you ugly little wretch, and be quick about it."’

“Did she speak in that shameful way to the other girls?”