on; but write me
a long answer of your own free will, and believe me ever
affectionately yours,

"T. B."

CHAPTER XLIII

AFTERNOON VISITORS

Miss Mary Porter was sitting alone in the front drawing-room of
her father's house, in Belgravia, on the afternoon of a summer's
day in this same year. Two years and more have passed over her
head since we first met her, and she may be a thought more sedate
and better dressed, but there is no other change to be noticed in
her.

The room was for the most part much like other rooms in that
quarter of the world. There were few luxuries in the way of
furniture which fallen man can desire which were not to be found
there, but over and above this, there was an elegance in the
arrangement of all the nick-nacks and ornaments, and an
appropriateness and good taste in the placing of every piece of
furniture and vase of flowers, which showed that a higher order
of mind than the upholsterer's or housemaid's was constantly
overlooking and working there. Everything seemed to be in its
exact place, in the best place which could have been thought of
for it, and to be the best thing which could have been thought of
for the place. And yet this perfection did not strike you
particularly at first, or surprise you in any way, but sank into
you gradually, so that, until you forced yourself to consider the
matter, you could not in the least say why the room had such a
very pleasant effect on you.

The young lady to whom this charm was chiefly owing was sitting
by a buhl work-table, on which lay her embroidery and a book. She
was reading a letter, which seemed deeply to interest her; for
she did not hear the voice of the butler, who had just opened the
door and disturbed her solitude, until he had repeated for the
second time, "Mr. Smith." Then Mary jumped up, and, hastily
folding her letter, put it into her pocket. She was rather
provoked at having allowed herself to be caught there alone by
afternoon visitors, and with the servants for having let anyone
in; nevertheless, she welcomed Mr. Smith with a cordiality of
manner which perhaps rather more than represented her real
feelings, and, with a "let mamma know," to the butler, set to
work to entertain her visitor. She would have had no difficulty
in doing this under ordinary circumstances, as all that Mr. Smith
wanted was a good listener. He was a somewhat heavy and garrulous
old gentleman, with many imaginary, and a few real troubles, th