Clara Hopgood

'What is the price?'

'Twelve pounds ten.'

'I think I will have them.' 'Madam, you will pardon me, but, if I were you, I would not. I think

something much cheaper will suit you better. If you will allow me, I

will look out for you and will report in a few days.'

'Oh! very well,' and she departed.

'The wife of a brassfounder,' he said to Clara; 'made a lot of money,

and now he has bought a house at Dulwich and is setting up a library.

Somebody has told him that he ought to have a county history, and

that Manning and Bray is the book. Manning and Bray! What he wants

is a Dulwich and Denmark Hill Directory. No, no,' and he took down

one of the big volumes, blew the dust off the top edges and looked at

the old book-plate inside, 'you won't go there if I can help it.' He

took a fancy to Clara when he found she loved literature, although

what she read was out of his department altogether, and his perfectly

human behaviour to her prevented that sense of exile and loneliness

which is so horrible to many a poor creature who comes up to London

to begin therein the struggle for existence. She read and meditated

a good deal in the shop, but not to much profit, for she was

continually interrupted, and the thought of her sister intruded

itself perpetually.

Madge seldom or never spoke of her separation from Frank, but one

night, when she was somewhat less reserved than usual, Clara ventured

to ask her if she had heard from him since they parted.

'I met him once.'

'Madge, do you mean that he found out where we are living, and that

he came to see you?'

'No, it was just round the corner as I was going towards Holborn.'

'Nothing could have brought him here but yourself,' said Clara,

slowly.

'Clara, you doubt?'

'No, no! I doubt you? Never!'

'But you hesitate; you reflect. Speak out.'

'God forbid I should utter a word which would induce you to

disbelieve what you know to be right. It is much more important to

believe earnestly that something is morally right than that it should

be really right, and he who attempts to displace a belief runs a

certain risk, because he is not sure that what he substitutes can be

held with equal force. Besides, each person's belief, or proposed

course of action, is a part of himself, and if he be diverted from it

and takes up with that which is not himself, the unity of his nature

is impaired, and he loses himself.'