Harriet seldom spoke of Sidney Hinchford to our heroine--he did not belong to her diminished world; she flattered herself that there was no thought of him, or of what might have been, to perplex her with new vanities. When the name of Sidney Hinchford intruded upon the subject of discourse, she heard it coldly enough. She was always glad to learn that Sidney was well, and doing well; it had even been a relief to her to know that the business, after a stand-still of some months, had taken a turn in the right direction; but, when all was well, what was there to agitate _her_? If Sidney were ill, and needed her help, she would have taken her place at his side, perhaps; if Mattie were ill even--though in her heart she felt that she did not love Mattie so well as formerly--she would have devoted herself to her service; but they were both well, living under the same roof with Mattie's father, and all things had changed so since Suffolk Street times. Harriet was from home at her usual devotions, and her father was endeavouring to amuse himself, as he best might under the circumstances, when a stranger, who preferred not to give his name, requested an audience of Miss Wesden. Miss Wesden not being at home, Mr. Wesden would do for the nonce, and the stranger was, therefore, shown into the parlour. The _ci-devant_ stationer put on his spectacles, and looked suspiciously at the new comer. Mr. Wesden was a man of the world, and hard to be imposed upon. A man more nervous and irritable with every day, but having his wits about him, as the phrase runs. "Good evening," said the stranger. "Good evening," responded Mr. Wesden. "Ahem--if it's a subscription for anything, I don't think that I have anything to give away." "My name is Hinchford--Maurice Hinchford--possibly better known to you by the unenviable _alias_ of Maurice Darcy." "Oh! you're that vagabond, are you?--well, what do you want? You haven't come to torment my daughter again?" he said, in an excited manner; "you've done enough mischief in your day." "I am aware of it, sir--I come to offer every reparation in my power." "We don't want any of that sort of stuff, Mr. Hinchford." "It's late in the day to offer an apology--to attempt an explanation of my conduct in the past; but if you would favour me with a patient hearing, I should be obliged, sir." "I've nothing better to do," said Mr. Wesden; "take a seat, sir." Maurice Hinchford seated himself opposite Mr. Wesden, and commenced his narrative, disguising and extenuating nothing, but attempting to analyze the real motives which had actuated his past conduct--motives which had been a little incomprehensible, taken altogether, and were therefore difficult to make clear before an auditor, as we have seen in our preceding chapter.