The writer of these lines once lived in a manufacturing town in the North, and, there being a strip of garden to his house, he asked the gardener to plant for him some white hyacinth bulbs, hyacinths being one of his favourite flowers. When the spring came, the hyacinths appeared, but alas! they were not white, but as black as the soot which is belched forth from a hundred chimneys. So moved was Paul by the kindness which was manifested, that a great sob came into his throat, and his heart became full of love towards the people. He longed, as he had never longed before, to work for them, to live for them; and before his mind came a vision of what the future might have in store. He knew what their life was, understood thoroughly the hard conditions under which they laboured. Yes, he would make some return for all this goodwill, and for the love which they evidently bore to him. He would live for them! He would work night and day for the betterment of their conditions! He would make Brunford a town to rejoice in! He would remove the wrongs under which the people suffered, and bring music and gladness into their lives! How he was to do this he did not know; indeed, it seemed impossible for him to commence as yet, but the time would come, and when that time came he would not spare himself. He did not forget what he had regarded as the chief purpose of his existence--that, at all costs, must be performed--but he must not live wholly for that; he must live for the people who loved him, and whom, in spite of everything, he loved. "Well, Preston," he said, "what is it?" when at length they reached his lodgings, and were sitting alone in the little room which the old couple had allotted to him. "I was thinking," said Preston, "of what you mean to do in the future." "I don't think I shall go to work to-morrow," said Paul. "I shall need one day's holiday to get things straightened out a bit, but, as you know, my place is kept open for me." "Have you any brass?" asked Preston abruptly. "Not much," said Paul; "but I've saved a few pounds." And then, with a laugh, "It's cost me nothing to live during the winter, you know. All the same, I've had to work hard for the black bread and skilly." "Come, now," said Preston, "let's say no more about that. I know you had a bad time, but you know by this time that no one in Brunford thinks the worse of you because of it, and no one thinks the better of Wilson. And it's not Christian to cherish black thoughts about them, or about Bolitho either. As you say, he was paid for his job, and he did it. How much money have you saved?" "Two hundred pounds," said Paul. "So much?" said the other in a tone of surprise. "Ay, I did not think you had done as well as that!" "Well, you see," replied Paul, "I have had good wages and I've lived hard. I have spent nothing on luxuries. I have had no holidays."