She knew that but for her unremitting efforts Hewett would have yielded to the despair of a drunkard; the crucial moment was when he found himself forsaken by his daughter, and no one but this poor woman could know what force of loving will, what entreaties, what tears, had drawn him back a little way from the edge of the gulf.

Throughout his life until that day of Clara's disappearance he had seemed in no danger from the deadliest enemy of the poor; one taste of the oblivion that could be bought at any street-corner, and it was as though drinking had been a recognised habit with him.

A year, two years, and he still drank himself into forgetfulness as often as his mental suffering waxed unendurable.

On the morrow of every such crime--interpret the word rightly--he hated himself for his cruelty to that pale sufferer whose reproaches were only the utterances of love.

The third year saw an improvement, whether owing to conscious self-control or to the fact that time was blunting his affliction.