oached herself for neglecting her mother.
Mrs. Waltham, however, enjoyed much content. The material comforts
of her life were considerably increased, and she had many things in
anticipation. Adela's unsatisfactory health rendered it advisable that
the present year should pass in quietness, but Mrs. Waltham had made up
her mind that before long there should be a house in London, with the
delights appertaining thereto. She did not feel herself at all too old
to enjoy the outside view of a London season; more than that it would
probably be difficult to obtain just yet. To-day she was in excellent
spirits, and welcomed her daughter exuberantly.

'You haven't seen Letty yet?' she asked. 'To-day, I mean.'

'No. Has she some news for me?'

'Alfred has an excellent chance of promotion. That old Wilkinson is
dead, and he thinks there's no doubt he'll get the place. It would be
two hundred and fifty a year.'

'That's good news, indeed.'

Of course it would mean Letty's immediate marriage. Mrs. Waltham
discussed the prospect in detail. No doubt the best and simplest
arrangement would be for the pair to live on in the same house. For the
present, of course. Alfred was now firm on the commercial ladder, and in
a few years his income would doubtless be considerable; then a dwelling
of a very different kind could be found. With the wedding, too, she was
occupying her thoughts.

'Yours was not quite what it ought to have been, Adela. I felt it at the
time, but then things were done in such a hurry. Of course the church
must be decorated. The breakfast you will no doubt arrange to have at
the Manor. Letty ought to have a nice, a really nice _trousseau_; I know
you will be kind to her, my dear.'

As Alice had done, Mrs. Waltham noticed before long that Adela was far
brighter than usual. She remarked upon it.

'You begin to look really well, my love. It makes me happy to see you.
How much we have to be thankful for! I've had a letter this morning from
poor Lizzie Henbane; I must show it you. They're in such misery as never
was. Her husband's business is all gone to nothing, and he is cruelly
unkind to her. How thankful we ought to be!'

'Surely not for poor Lizzie's unhappiness!' said Adela, with a return of
her maiden archness.

'On our own account, my dear. We have had so much to contend against.
At one time, just after your poor father's death, things looked very
cheerless: I used to fret dreadfully on your account. But eve