Her air of sadness--by no means forced upon the vulgar
eye, but unmistakable when you studied her--was indicative of
faithful sensibilities. Scawthorne had altogether lost sight of
Sidney Kirkwood and of the Hewetts; he knew they were all gone to a
remote part of London, and more than this he had no longer any care
to discover. On excellent terms with his landlady, he skilfully
elicited from her now and then a confidential remark with regard to
Jane; of late, indeed, he had established something like a
sentimental understanding with the good Bessie, so that, whenever he
mentioned Jane, she fell into a pleasant little flutter, feeling
that she understood what was in progress. . . . Why not?--he kept
asking himself. Joseph Snowdon (who addressed his letters to Hanover
Street in a feigned hand) seemed to have an undeniable affection for
the girl, and was constant in his promises of providing a handsome
dowry. The latter was not a point of such importance as a few years
ago, but the dollars would be acceptable. And then, the truth was,
Scawthorne felt himself more and more inclined to put a certain
question to Jane, dowry or none.
Yes, she felt it as a disgrace, poor girl! When she saw the name
'Snowdon' in the newspaper, in such a shameful and horrible
connection, her impulse was to flee, to hide herself.
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