But Jane had something to say; or rather, she seemed to be thinking aloud. Who knew whether Michael had left a will, and whether Henry would have any of the money? Besides, she had not so much in her purse; and it seemed to her that this would not be the end of the business. If there was a conspiracy against Henry, and his enemies knew that his family had money, they would soon make up another charge, and nobody could foresee where it might end. Perhaps the best kindness to Henry would be for his family to do nothing, that it might be seen that there was no use in pursuing him for evil. Perhaps—— Dr. Say emphatically assented to the whole of Jane’s reasoning. “I am afraid of mistaking your English,” said Marie, losing her breath. “Do you mean that you will not help Henry?” “Perhaps some other friend——It might be better for him that some one else——Henry must have many friends.” “Perhaps. But in France we have sisters who have begged alms for their brother’s defence, and thereby found a place beside them under the axe from which they could not save them. I thought there was one universal sister’s heart.” Jane called after her in vain. She was gone like lightning. Morgan, however, detained her an instant at the door. “Wait, my dear young lady! They will follow you in the streets if you look so wild, ma’am!” “Then I will tell them how I scorn your London rich sisters that keep their brothers prisoners for paltry gold!” “Do not go, ma’am! Do stay till one can think a little,” urged the horror-struck Morgan. “No, I will not stay. But I will not judge all till I have seen another sister.” “Ah! Mrs. Peek. Go to Mrs. Peek, ma’am; and I would go with you, but——” Marie thought this was a land of “buts.” She could not, however, have stayed till Morgan could get ready. She made all haste to Mrs. Peek’s house. She did not know how to believe that the woman she saw, nursing a baby, could be a sister of Henry’s. The house was as noisy as Jane’s was quiet; and the mistress as talkative and pliable as Jane was reserved and stiff. In her untidy black bombazeen dress, she looked more like a servant than did her children’s nursemaid in her black coarse stuff; and the various sounds of complaint that came from little folks in every corner of the house were less wearing than the mamma’s incessant chiding and repining.—She did not know anything about whether her brother Henry was really married or not, she was sure; for Henry never came near them to let them know what he was doing. “No wonder,” thought Marie, when she looked back upon the confusion of children’s toys, stools of all sizes, and carpets (apparently spread to trip up the walker), among which she had worked her way to the seat she occupied.