
Scawthorne worked himself up to a position which had at first seemed
unattainable; what he paid for the success was loss of all his pure ideals, of
his sincerity, of his disinterestedness, of the fine perceptions to which he was
born. Probably no one who is half-starved and overworked during those critical
years comes out of the trial with his moral nature uninjured; to certain
characters it is a wrong irreparable. To stab the root of a young tree, to hang
crushing burdens upon it, to rend off its early branches - that is not the
treatment likely to result in growth such as nature purposed. There will come of
it a vicious formation, and the principle applies also to the youth of men.
    Scawthorne was fond of the theatre; as soon as his time of incessant toil
was over, he not only attended performances frequently, but managed to make
personal acquaintance with sundry theatrical people. Opportunity for this was
afforded by his becoming member of a club, consisting chiefly of solicitors'
clerks, which was frequently honoured by visits from former associates who had
taken, to the stage; these happy beings would condescend to recite at times, to
give help in getting up a dramatic entertainment, and soon, in this way,
Scawthorne came to know an old actor named Drake, who supported himself by
instructing novices, male and female, in his own profession; one of Mr. Drake's
old pupils was Miss Grace Danver, in whom, as soon as he met her, Scawthorne
recognised the Grace Rudd of earlier days. And it was not long after this that
he brought to Mr. Drake a young girl of interesting appearance, but very
imperfect education, who fancied she had a turn for acting; he succeeded in
arranging for her instruction, and a year and a half later she obtained her
first engagement at a theatre in Scotland. The name she adopted was Clara Vale.
Joseph Snowdon saw her once or twice before she left London, and from Grace
Danver he heard that Grace and she had been schoolfellows in Clerkenwell. These
facts revived in his memory when he afterwards heard Clem speak of Clara Hewett.
    Nothing came of the alliance between Polkenhorne and Joseph; when the
tatter's money was exhausted, they naturally fell apart. Joseph made a living in
sundry precarious ways, but at length sank into such straits that he risked the
step of going to Clerkenwell Close. Personal interest in his child he had then
none whatever; his short married life seemed an episode in the remote past,
recalled with indifference. But in spite of his profound selfishness, it was not
solely
