"Oh, sir--I beg your pardon--but I have at this moment received the money for the back rent. May I give it to you now?" Mr. Ashley looked at her in surprise. A scarlet spot shone on her thin cheeks--a happy excitement was spread over her face of care. He read the indications plainly--that she was an eager payer, but no willing debtor. The open letter in her hand, and the postman opposite, told the tale. "There is no such hurry, Mrs. Halliburton," he said, smiling. "I cannot give you a receipt here." "You can send it to me," she said. "I would rather pay you than Mr. Dare." She held out the notes to him. He felt in his pocket whether he had sufficient change, found he had, and handed it to her. "That is it, madam--four sovereigns. Thank you." She took them hesitatingly, but did not close her hand. "Was there not some expense incurred when--when that man was put in?" "Not for you to pay, Mrs. Halliburton," he pointedly returned. "I hope you are getting pretty well through your troubles?" The tears came into her eyes, and she turned them away. Getting pretty well through her troubles! "Thank you for inquiring," she meekly said. "I shall, I believe, have the quarter's rent ready in March, when it falls due." "Do not put yourself out of the way to pay it," he replied. "If it would be more convenient to you to let it go on to the half-year, it would be the same to me." Her heart rose to the kindness. "Thank you, Mr. Ashley, thank you very much for your consideration; but I must pay as I go on, if I possibly can." Patience stood at her gate, smiling as she recrossed the road. She had seen what had passed. "Thee hast good news, I see. But thee wert in a hurry, to pay thy rent in the road." "My brother has sent me the rent and four pounds over. Patience, I can buy bedside carpets now." Patience looked pleased. "With all thy riches thee will scarcely thank me for this poor three and sixpence," holding out the silver to her. "Samuel Lynn left it; it is owing thee for thy work." Jane smiled sadly as she took it. Her riches! "How is Anna?" she asked. "She is nicely, thank thee, and is gone to school. But she was wilful over her lessons this morning. Farewell. I am glad thee art so far out of thy perplexities." Very far, indeed; and a great relief it was. Can you realize these troubles of Mrs. Halliburton's? Not, I think, as she realized them. We pity the trials and endurance of the poor; but, believe me, they are as nothing compared with the bitter lot of reduced gentlepeople. Jane had not been brought up to poverty, to scanty and hard fare, to labour, to humiliations, to the pain of debt. But for hope--and some of us know how strong that is in the human heart--and for that better hope, _trust_, Jane never could have gone through her trials. Her physical privations alone were almost too hard to bear. Can you wonder that an unexpected present of four pounds seemed as a mine of wealth? CHAPTER XXV. INCIPIENT VANITY.