and sat
dreaming. It was long before her face relaxed; when it did so, the mood
that succeeded was profoundly sorrowful. One would have said that it
was no personal grief that absorbed her, but compassion for the whole
world's misery.

When at length she undid the wrapping, her eye was at once caught by the
papers within the volume. She started, and seemed afraid to touch the
book. Her first thought was that Eldon had enclosed a letter; but she
saw that there was no envelope, only two or three loose slips. At length
she examined them and found the sonnets. They had no heading, but at the
foot of each was written the date of composition.

She read them. Adela's study of poetry had not gone beyond a school-book
of selections, with the works of Mrs. Hemans and of Longfellow, and the
'Christian Year.' Hubert's verses she found difficult to understand;
their spirit, the very vocabulary, was strange to her. Only on a second
reading did she attain a glimmering of their significance. Then she
folded them again and laid them on the table.

Before going to her bedroom she wrote this letter:

'DEAR MR. ELDON,--I am much obliged to you for returning the "Christian
Year." Some papers were left in its pages by accident, and I now enclose
them.

'Miss Tew also brought me a message from you. I am sorry that I cannot
do as you wish. I am unable to ask you to call, and I hope you will
understand me when I say that any other kind of meeting is impossible.

'I am, yours truly, 'ADELA WALTHAM.'

It was Adela's first essay in this vein of composition. The writing cost
her an hour, and she was far from satisfied with the final form. But she
copied it in a firm hand, and made it ready for posting on the morrow.

CHAPTER XIV

'Between Richard Mutimer, bachelor, and Adela Marian Waitham, spinster,
both of this parish'

It was the only announcement of the kind that Mr. Wyvern had to make
this Sunday. To one of his hearers he seemed to utter the names with
excessive emphasis, his deep voice reverberating in the church. The pews
were high; Adela almost cowered in her corner, feeling pierced with the
eyes, with the thoughts too, of the congregation about her.

She had wondered whether the Manor pew would be occupied to-day, but
it was not. When she stood up, her eyes strayed towards it; the red
curtains which concealed the interior were old and faded, the wooden
canopy crowned it with dreary state. In three weeks that would be