There had been no occasion for Mr William Jarker to carry out the threat he had once made, for in all the long space of time during which Agnes Hardon's child was in Mrs Jarker's care, the money was always paid, faithfully and regularly, once a week, but at how great a cost to its mother none but the Seer of all hearts could tell; and always, in spite of sickness and misery, pain, and the hard bondage of her life, Jarker's wife was tender and loving to the little one within her charge. Perhaps it was the memory of another pair of bright eyes that had once gazed up into her own, perhaps only the loving promptings of her woman's heart; but when, by stealth almost, Agnes Hardon came to kiss her child, she left tearfully but rejoicing, for there was proof always before her of the gentle usage in the fond way in which the little thing clung to its nurse. The preference may have wrung her heart, but it was but another sorrow to bear, and, bending beneath her weight of care, she came and went at such times as seemed best for avoiding Jarker, the curate, and Septimus Hardon. It was in her power to have let Lucy know where old Matt lodged; but of late they had met but little, and then, in their hurried interviews, his name was not mentioned, for the sorrows of the present filled their hearts. But now Agnes Hardon was in greater trouble, for something whispered her that this sickness of poor Mrs Jarker was a sickness unto death, and her soul clave to the suffering, ill-used woman who had filled the place of mother to her child; while, at the same time, she trembled for the future of her little one after each visit--ever feeling the necessity, but ever dreading, to take it away, for truly there was a change coming; and time after time when she left the garret, it was with a shudder, for there seemed to be a shadow in the room.