"I think so," said Janet, sadly. "I am not mad now. I suffered then, but it has passed away, to leave me wiser and better, I hope. Do you think," she added, somewhat bitterly, "that I shall be like the little one that cried for the moon?" Harry was silent for a while, thinking, but he was interrupted by Janet's whisper-- "Tell me--is he well?" "Yes," said Harry. "And you have seen him?" "Not for above a year." "But you have had news; tell me what it is." Harry was again thoughtful and silent. Should he tell her or no? The blow must come some day; had it not better fall upon her now, and be at an end? "Do you fear to tell me?" she said again. Harry's answer was to draw Sir Francis Redgrave's letter from his pocket, and place it in her hands. "Read it," he said, "when you are alone." Volume 3, Chapter XXVI. AT THE NEW HOME. Parted at last, for Harry had seen father and daughter into an omnibus, one which must have been Ben Jonson's "chariot at hand here of love, in which my lady rideth," and drawn by swans or doves, instead of a jangling piece of wood and iron work, with a wretched knacker on either side of the pole. How memory, though, dwelt upon her whose soft kiss-- the first--was yet dewy sweet upon his lips--upon his, for she was his promised wife; and as he passed through the streets, walking as if upon air, flushed, proud, happy, he saw nothing but the bright future his fancy painted. Then came the recollection of Janet, and he admired her as he thought of the calm resignation with which she seemed to pour out the lavish tenderness of her nature upon Patty. At this point Harry glided selfishly away again in thought to add fresh colouring to his happy future. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Harry was early at Highgate the next day, to find Mrs Jared very stern and uncompromising; but he was too much for her in his downright honest declaration. "Don't be hard upon me, Mrs Pellet--don't send me away; for indeed I love her very, very dearly." Mrs Jared was beaten, as well she might be, for there were Jared and Patty looking on. It was not consistent, she knew; but Harry stayed that day and dined with them, and saw Jared ready to go off to the vicar's, stay to have a string tucked in here--Jared always was great in strings--and a brushing there; while, in the exertion of making the most of himself, he burst a pearl button off his wrist-band. And now Patty was called into requisition to sew that button on again; and I vow and declare that the fresh disc of pearl which she held between her lips while she made a knot at the end of her thread, was not so bright and pure-looking as the little regular teeth over which Harry went into raptures.