and her party cannot associate with you to
your mutual pleasure and profit; and do you therefore blame her for not
attempting what would fail ludicrously?" With herself, as she was not
sorry to show, Lady Gosstre could associate. Cornelia had given up work
to become a part of the Court. Adela made flying excursions over the
lawn. Laura Tinley had the field below and Mr. Pericles to herself.
That anxious gentleman consulted his watch from time to time, as if he
expected the birth of an event.

Lady Gosstre grew presently aware that there was more acrimony in
Freshfield Sumner's replies to Sir Twickenham (whom he had seduced into
a political argument) than the professional wit need employ; and as
Mr. Powys's talk was getting so attractive that the Court had become
crowded, she gave a hint to Georgiana and Lady Charlotte, prompt
lieutenants, whose retirement broke the circle.

"I never shall understand how it was done," Adela said subsequently.
It is hoped that everybody sees the importance of understanding such
points.

She happened to be standing alone when a messenger came up to her and
placed a letter in her hand, addressed to her sister Cornelia. Adela
walked slowly up to the heights. She knew Mr. Barrett's handwriting.
"Good heavens!"--her thought may be translated out of Fine Shades--"does
C. really in her heart feel so blind to our situation that she can go
on playing still?" When she reached the group it was to hear Mr. Powys
speaking of Mr. Barrett. Cornelia was very pale, and stood wretchedly in
contrast among the faces. Adela beckoned her to step aside. "Here is a
letter," she said: "there's no postmark. What has been the talk of that
man?"

"Do you mean of Mr. Barrett?" Cornelia replied:--"that his father was a
baronet, and a madman, who has just disinherited him."

"Just?" cried Adela. She thought of the title. Cornelia had passed on.
A bizarre story of Mr. Barrett's father was related to Adela by Sir
Twickenham. She grappled it with her sense, and so got nothing out of
it. "Disinherited him because he wrote to his father, who was dying,
to say that he had gained a livelihood by playing the organ! He had a
hatred of music? It's incomprehensible! You know, Sir Twickenham, the
interest we take in Mr. Barrett." The masked anguish of Cornelia's voice
hung in her ears. She felt that it was now possible Cornelia might throw
over the rich for the penniless baronet, and absolutely for an instant
she thought na