teadiness may involve," Gilbert
answered, smiling; "but I daresay when my friend marries he will be
steady enough. I cannot see that literary tastes and dissipated habits
have any natural affinity. I should rather imagine that a man with
resources of that kind would be likely to lead a quieter life than a man
without such resources."

"Do you really think so? I fancied that artists and poets and people of
that kind were altogether a dangerous class. And you think that Mr.
Saltram will be steady when he is married? He is engaged to be married, I
conclude by your manner of saying that."

"I had no idea my words implied anything of the kind. No, _I_ do not
think John Saltram is engaged."

Mrs. Pallinson glanced towards the piano, where the two figures seemed
very close to each other in the dim light of the room. Adela's playing
had been going on in a desultory kind of manner, broken every now and
then by her conversation with John Saltram, and had evidently been
intended to give pleasure only to that one listener.

While she was still playing in this careless fitful way, a servant
announced Mr. Pallinson; and a gentleman entered whom Gilbert had no
difficulty in recognizing as the son of the lady he had been conversing
with. This new-comer was a tall pale-faced young man, with intensely
penetrating black eyes exactly like his mother's, sharp well-cut
features, and an extreme precision of dress and manner. His hands, which
were small and thin, were remarkable for their whiteness, and were
set-off by spotless wristbands, which it was his habit to smooth fondly
with his slim fingers in the intervals of his discourse. Mrs. Pallinson
rose and embraced this gentleman with stately affection.

"My son Theobald--Mr. Fenton," she said. "My son is a medical
practitioner, residing at Maida-hill; and it is a pleasure to him to
spend an occasional evening with his cousin Adela and myself."

"Whenever the exigencies of professional life leave me free to enjoy that
happiness," Mr. Pallinson added in a brisk semi-professional manner.
"Adela has been giving you some music, I see. I heard one of Handel's
choruses as I came upstairs."

He went into the front drawing-room, shook hands with Mrs. Branston, and
established himself with a permanent air beside the piano. Adela did not
seem particularly glad to see him; and John Saltram, who had met him
before in Cavendish-square, received him with supreme indifference.

"I am blessed, as I