 fashioned
left upon her no brand of slavish vice, nor the baseness of those early
associations affected her with any irremovable taint? As far as human
observation could probe her, Jane Snowdon had no spot of uncleanness in her
being; she had been rescued while it was yet time, and the subsequent period of
fostering had enabled features of her character, which no one could have
discerned in the helpless child, to expand with singular richness. Two effects
of the time of her bondage were, however, clearly to be distinguished. Though
nature had endowed her with a good intelligence, she could only with extreme
labour acquire that elementary book-knowledge which vulgar children get easily
enough; it seemed as if the bodily overstrain at a critical period of life had
affected her memory, and her power of mental application generally. In spite of
ceaseless endeavour, she could not yet spell words of the least difficulty; she
could not do the easiest sums with accuracy; geographical names were her
despair. The second point in which she had suffered harm was of more serious
nature. She was subject to fits of hysteria, preceded and followed by the most
painful collapse of that buoyant courage which was her supreme charm and the
source of her influence. Without warning, an inexplicable terror would fall upon
her; like the weakest child, she craved protection from a dread inspired solely
by her imagination, and solace for an anguish of wretchedness to which she could
give no form in words. Happily this illness afflicted her only at long
intervals, and her steadily improving health gave warrant for hoping that in
time it would altogether pass away.
    Whenever an opportunity had offered for struggling successfully with some
form of evil - were it poor Pennyloaf's dangerous despair, or the very human
difficulties between Bessie and her husband - Jane lived at her highest reach of
spiritual joy. For all that there was a disappointment on her mind, she felt
this joy to-night, and went about her pursuits in happy self-absorption. So it
befell that she did not hear a knock at the house-door. Mrs. Byass answered it,
and not knowing that Mr. Snowdon was from home, bade his usual visitor go
upstairs. The visitor did so, and announced his presence at the door of the
room.
    »Oh, Mr. Kirkwood,« said Jane, »I'm so sorry, but grandfather had to go out
with a gentleman.«
    And she waited, looking at him, a gentle warmth on her face.
 

                                  Chapter XVI

                              Dialogue and Comment

»Will it be late before he comes back?« asked
