strove for mastery over the soul they attended. As the recollection of this legend came to him, Felix looked up and saw Alfred's bad angel, Mr. David Sheldrake, talking to Alfred, and Alfred eagerly listening. It saddened Felix to see this, although he fully expected it, and was prepared for it. "Alfred's good angel," he thought, "is love. But love has no sword to strike this false friend dead." But Felix went home that evening with a clue in his hand. On this night, as Felix walked away from Lily's house, he thought of these things, and was too disturbed to go home. He walked about the quiet streets, and at the end of an hour found himself on the Thames Embankment. As he stood there, musing, gazing into the solemn river, he became conscious of a sudden tremor in the air. He looked around with a feeling of vague alarm upon him, but he saw nothing, heard nothing. "Pshaw!" he muttered. "Mr. Podmore's presentiment is frightening me with shadows. I'll stroll past Lily's house, and then go home to bed." CHAPTER XXXVII. JIM PODMORE HAS A DREAM, AND WAKES UP IN TIME. Jim Podmore, staggering into the one room which formed his Englishman's castle, found his wife and Pollypod fast asleep in bed. Before he went out to his work in the morning, he had told his wife not to sit up for him that night. "You've had precious hard work of it, old woman," he had said, "this last week; so go to bed early and have a long night's rest. I'll find my way up-stairs all right." The precious hard work which Jim Podmore referred to was one of those tasks which poor people--especially women--take upon themselves when occasion requires, with a readiness and cheerfulness which it is beautiful to see. A neighbour's child had been ill, and required constant watching. The mother, worn out with her labour of love, had fallen ill herself. And Mrs. Podmore flew to her aid, and attended to her household duties, and nursed her and the child through their sickness. The cheerfulness with which Mrs. Podmore undertook this task and performed it, as if it were a duty incumbent upon her, cannot be described. The best reward she could receive was hers: the mother and child recovered their health, and were strong enough to attend to themselves. Late in the previous night the doctor had released Mrs. Podmore, and told her--with smiles and good words and with a hand-shake which gratified the simple woman mightily--that now she had best go home and take care of herself; "for we can get about ourselves now," he said, "and sha'n't want you any more." This accounted for Jim Podmore having to find his way up-stairs by himself, for Mrs. Podmore seldom went to bed before he returned home. He knew, on this night, that his wife was asleep, and in the midst of his drowsiness he took off his boots in the passage, so that he should not disturb her.