"I wasn't paying no attention, miss; I was looking at a cab that could hardly get through the stones they've been laying down in the Pembroke Road; the poor little horse was pulling that 'ard that I thought he'd drop down dead, and while I was looking I ran up against a passer-by, and being a bit taken aback I dropped the jug." "How was that? Did you know the passer-by?" Esther busied herself with the dishes on the sideboard; and, divining that something serious had happened to her servant, Miss Rice refrained and allowed the dinner to pass in silence. Half-an-hour later Esther came into the study with her mistress's tea. She brought over the wicker table, and as she set it by her mistress's knees the shadows about the bookcase and the light of the lamp upon the book and the pensive content on Miss Rice's face impelled her to think of her own troubles, the hardship, the passion, the despair of her life compared with this tranquil existence. Never had she felt more certain that misfortune was inherent in her life. She remembered all the trouble she had had, she wondered how she had come out of it all alive; and now, just as things seemed like settling, everything was going to be upset again. Fred was away for a fortnight's holiday--she was safe for eleven or twelve days. After that she did not know what might not happen. Her instinct told her that although he had passed over her fault very lightly, so long as he knew nothing of the father of her child, he might not care to marry her if William continued to come after her. Ah! if she hadn't happened to go out at that particular time she might never have met William. He did not live in the neighbourhood; if he did they would have met before. Perhaps he had just settled in the neighbourhood. That would be worst of all. No, no, no; it was a mere accident; if the cask of beer had held out a day or two longer, or if it had run out a day or two sooner, she might never have met William! But now she could not keep out of his way. He spent the whole day in the street waiting for her. If she went out on an errand he followed her there and back. If she'd only listen. She was prettier than ever. He had never cared for any one else. He would marry her when he got his divorce, and then the child would be theirs. She did not answer him, but her blood boiled at the word "theirs." How could Jackie become their child? Was it not she who had worked for him, brought him up? and she thought as little of his paternity as if he had fallen from heaven into her arms. One evening as she was laying the table her grief took her unawares, and she was obliged to dash aside the tears that had risen to her eyes. The action was so apparent that Miss Rice thought it would be an affectation to ignore it. So she said in her kind, musical, intimate manner, "Esther, I'm afraid you have some trouble on your mind; can I do anything for you?" "No, miss, no, it's nothing; I shall get over it presently."