Who was he that he should look for
pleasant things in his course through the world? 'We are the lower
orders; we are the working classes,' he said bitterly to his friend,
and that seemed the final answer to all his aspirations.
This was a dark day with him. The gold he handled stung him to
hatred and envy, and every feeling which he had resolved to combat
as worse than profitless. He could not speak to his fellow-workmen.
From morning to night it had rained. St. John's Arch looked more
broken-spirited than ever, drenched in sooty moisture.
During the dinner-hour he walked over to the public-house of which
Jane had spoken, and obtained from the barman as full a description
as possible of the person he hoped to encounter. Both then and on
his return home in the evening he shunned the house where his
friends dwelt.
It came round to Monday. For the first time for many months he had
allowed Sunday to pass without visiting the Hewetts. He felt that to
go there at present would only be to increase the parents'
depression by his own low spirits. Clara had left them now, however,
and if he still stayed away, his behaviour might be misinterpreted.
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