 the philanthropic life. Her brief period of joy and confidence
was followed by a return of anxiety, which no resolve could suppress. It was not
only that the ideals to which she strove to form herself made no genuine appeal
to her nature; the imperative hunger of her heart remained unsatisfied. At
first, when the assurance received from Michael began to lose a little of its
sustaining force, she could say to herself, »Patience, patience; be faithful, be
trustful, and your reward will soon come.« Nor would patience have failed her
had but the current of life flowed on in the old way. It was the introduction of
new and disturbing things that proved so great a test of fortitude. Those two
successive absences of Sidney on the appointed evening were strangely unlike
him, but perhaps could be explained by the unsettlement of his removal; his
manner when at length he did come proved that the change in himself was still
proceeding. Moreover, the change affected Michael, who manifested increase of
mental trouble at the same time that he yielded more and more to physical
infirmity.
    The letter which Sidney wrote after receiving Joseph Snowdon's confidential
communications was despatched two days later. He expressed himself in carefully
chosen words, but the purport of the letter was to make known that he no longer
thought of Jane save as a friend; that the change in her position had compelled
him to take another view of his relations to her than that he had confided to
Michael at Danbury. Most fortunately - he added - no utterance of his feelings
had ever escaped him to Jane herself, and henceforth he should be still more
careful to avoid any suggestion of more than brotherly interest. In very deed
nothing was altered; he was still her steadfast friend, and would always aid her
to his utmost in the work of her life.
    That Sidney could send this letter, after keeping it in reserve for a couple
of days, proved how profoundly his instincts were revolted by the difficulties
and the ambiguity of his position. It had been bad enough when only his own
conscience was in play; the dialogue with Joseph, following upon Bessie Byass's
indiscretion, threw him wholly off his balance, and he could give no weight to
any consideration but the necessity of recovering self-respect. Even the
sophistry of that repeated statement that he had never approached Jane as a
lover did not trouble him in face of the injury to his pride. Every word of
Joseph Snowdon's transparently artful hints was a sting to his sensitiveness;
the sum excited him to loathing. It was as though the corner of a
