e
from Arnold Jacks, which she opened hurriedly. It proved to be a mere
note, saying that at last he had found a house which seemed in every
respect suitable, and he wished Irene to go over it with him as soon as
possible; he would call for her at three o'clock. "Remember," he added,
"you dine with us. We are by ourselves."

She glanced at her father, as if to acquaint him with this news; but
the Doctor was deep in a leading-article, and she did not disturb him.
Eustace had correspondence of his own which engrossed him. No one
seemed disposed for talk this morning.

The letter which most interested her came from Helen Borisoff, who was
now at home, in Paris. It was the kind of letter that few people are so
fortunate as to receive nowadays, covering three sheets with gaiety and
good-nature, with glimpses of interesting social life and many an
amusing detail. Mrs. Borisoff was establishing herself for the winter,
which promised all sorts of good things yonder on the Seine. She had
met most of the friends she cared about, among whom were men and women
with far-echoing names. With her husband she was on delightful terms;
he had welcomed her charmingly; he wished her to convey his respectful
homage to the young English lady with whom his wife had become _liee_,
and the hope that at no distant time he might make her acquaintance.
After breakfast, Irene lingered over this letter, which brightened her
imagination. Paris shone luringly as she read. Had circumstances been
different, she would assuredly have spent a month there with Helen.

Well, she was going to Egypt, after--

One glance she gave at Arnold's short note. "My dear Irene"--"In haste,
but ever yours." These lines did not tempt her to muse. Yet Arnold was
ceaselessly in her mind. She wished to see him, and at the same time
feared his coming. As for the house, it occupied her thoughts with only
a flitting vagueness. Why so much solicitude about the house? In any
decent quarter of London, was not one just as good as another? But for
the risk of hurting Arnold, she would have begged him to let her off
the inspection, and to manage the business as he thought fit.

A number of small matters claimed her attention during the morning,
several of them connected with her marriage. Try as she might, she
could not bring herself to a serious occupation with these things; they
seemed trivial and tiresome. Her thoughts wandered constantly to the
house at Campden Hill, which ha