on which a group of
spaniels, after Sir Edwin Landseer, were slowly growing into the fluffy
life of Berlin wool; a still greater relief, not to be called upon to
respond appropriately to the dull platitudes which formed the lady's
usual conversation, when she was not abusing John Saltram, or sounding
the praises of her beloved son.

The day was a long one for Adela, in spite of the pleasant sense of
freedom; for she had begun the morning with the thought of what a
delightful thing it would be if some happy accident should bring Mr.
Saltram to Cavendish-square on this particular day; and having once
started with this idea, she found herself counting the hours and
half-hours with impatient watchfulness until the orthodox time for
visiting was quite over, and she could no longer beguile herself with the
hope that he would come. She wanted so much to see him alone. Since her
husband's death, they had met only in the presence of Mrs. Pallinson,
beneath the all-pervading eye and within perpetual ear-shot of that
oppressive matron. Adela fancied that if they could only meet for one
brief half-hour face to face, without the restraint of that foreign
presence, all misunderstanding would be at an end between them, and John
Saltram's affection for her, in which she believed with a fond credulity,
would reveal itself in all its truth and fulness.

"I daresay it is my cousin Pallinson who has kept him away from me all
this time," Adela said to herself with a very impatient feeling about
her cousin Pallinson. "I know how intolerant he is of any one he
dislikes; and no doubt he has taken a dislike to her; she has done
everything to provoke it, indeed by her coldness and rudeness to him."

That day went by, and the second and third day of the dowager's absence;
but there was no sign of John Saltram. Adela thought of writing to ask
him to come to her; but that seemed such a desperate step, she could not
think how she should word the letter, or how she could give it to one of
the servants to post. No, she would contrive to post it herself, if she
did bring herself to write. And then she thought of a still more
desperate step. What if she were to call upon Mr. Saltram at his Temple
chambers? It would be a most unwarrantable thing for her to do, of
course; an act which would cause Mrs. Pallinson's hair to stand on end in
virtuous horror, could it by any means come to her knowledge; but Adela
did not intend that it ever should be known t