“I’d earn my bread, if I knew how,” she began, putting her handkerchief up to her eyes, on the afternoon of the very day on which he was buried.

“There will be no occasion for that, Sarah,” said Miss Mackenzie, “there will be enough for us all.”

“But I would if I knew how. I wouldn’t mind what I did; I’d scour floors rather than be dependent, I’ve that spirit in me; and I’ve worked, and moiled, and toiled with those children; so I have.”

Miss Mackenzie then told her that she had solemnly promised her brother to divide her income with his widow, and informed her that she intended to see Mr Slow, the lawyer, on the following day, with reference to the doing of this.

“If there is anything from the factory, that can be divided too,” said Miss Mackenzie.

“But there won’t. The Rubbs will take all that; of course they will. And Tom put into it near upon ten thousand pounds!”

Then she began to cry again, but soon interrupted her tears to ask what was to become of Susanna. Susanna, who was by, looked anxiously up into her aunt’s eyes.

“Susanna and I,” said the aunt, “have thrown in our lot together, and we mean to remain so; don’t we, dear?”

“If mamma will let me.”

“I’m sure it’s very good of you to take one off my hands,” said the mother, “for even one will be felt.”

Then came a note to Miss Mackenzie from Lady Ball, asking her to spend a few days at the Cedars before she returned to Littlebath,—that is, if she did return,—and she consented to do this. While she was there Mr Slow could prepare the necessary arrangements for the division of the property, and she could then make up her mind as to the manner and whereabouts of her future life. She was all at sea again, and knew not how to choose. If she were a Romanist, she would go into a convent; but Protestant convents she thought were bad, and peculiarly unfitted for the followers of Mr Stumfold. She had nothing to bind her to any spot, and something to drive her from every spot of which she knew anything.

Before she went to the Cedars Mr Rubb came to Gower Street and bade her farewell.

“I had allowed myself to hope, Miss Mackenzie,” said he, “I had, indeed; I suppose I was very foolish.”

“I don’t know as to being foolish, Mr Rubb, unless it was in caring about such a person as me.”

“I do care for you, very much; but I suppose I was wrong to think you would put up with such as I am. Only I did think that perhaps, seeing that we had been partners with your brother so long— All the same, I know that the Mackenzies are different from the Rubbs.”

“That has nothing to do with it; nothing in the least.”

“Hasn’t it now? Then, perhaps, Miss Mackenzie, at some future time—”