‘You shan’t disappoint me, my dear,’ he said gravely.  ’It’s my own fault if I don’t take your kindness as you mean it.  I have to go out, Jane, but I shall be back to dinner.  Perhaps we’ll talk again afterwards.’

Of late, on the rare occasions of his leaving the house, he had always told her where he was going, and for what purpose; Jane understood that this confidence was at an end.  When he was gone she found occupation for a short time, but presently could only sit over the fire, nursing her many griefs.  She was no longer deemed worthy of confidence; worse than that, she had no more faith in herself.  If Sidney learnt what had happened he could not even retain his respect for her.  In this way she thought of it, judging Kirkwood by the ideal standard, which fortunately is so unlike human nature; taking it for granted—­so oppressed was her mind by the habit of dwelling on artificial motives—­that he only liked her because he had believed her strong in purpose, forgetting altogether that his love had grown before he was aware that anything unusual was required of her.  She did remember, indeed, that it was only the depth of her love for him which had caused her disgrace; but, even if he came to understand that, it would not, she feared, weigh in her favour against his judgment.

It was the natural result of the influences to which she had been subjected.  Her mind, overwrought by resolute contemplation of ideas beyond its scope, her gentle nature bent beneath a burden of duty to which it was unequal, and taught to consider with painful solemnity those impulses of kindness which would otherwise have been merely the simple joys of life, she had come to distrust every instinct which did not subserve the supreme purpose.  Even of Sidney’s conduct she could not reason in a natural way.  Instinct would have bidden her reproach him, though ever so gently; was it well done to draw away when he must have known how she looked for his aid?  Her artificial self urged, on the other hand, that he had not acted thus without some gravely considered motive.  What it was she could not pretend to divine; her faith in his nobleness overcame every perplexity.  Of the persons constituting this little group and playing their several parts, she alone had fallen altogether below what was expected of her.  As humble now as in the days of her serfdom, Jane was incapable of revolting against the tyranny of circumstances.  Life had grown very hard for her again, but she believed that this was to a great extent her own fault, the outcome of her own unworthy weakness.

At Michael’s return she did her best to betray no idle despondency.  Their midday meal was almost as silent as breakfast had been; his eyes avoided her, and frequently he lost himself in thought.  As he was rising from the table Jane observed an unsteadiness in his movement; he shook his head mechanically and leaned forward on both his hands, as if feeling giddy.  She approached him, but did not venture to speak.