told upon her," said everyone. The illness of the two
boys had come at an unfortunate moment. She looked worn and white, and
dreadfully thin. She seemed cheerful, and at times her mood was even
merry, but she could not recover strength. At the end of the day, she
would be completely exhausted. This had not been surprising at first,
after the long strain of nursing, but Mrs. Fullerton thought it was
time that she began to mend. She feared that Hadria spent too many hours
over her composing; she sat up at night, perhaps. What good did all this
composing do? Nobody ever heard of it. Such a sad pity that she could
not see the folly of persevering in the fruitless effort.

Lady Engleton was sure that Hadria saw too few people, lived too
monotonous a life. Craddock Place was filled with guests just now, and
Lady Engleton used her utmost persuasion to induce Hubert and Hadria to
come to dinner, or to join the party, in the evening, whenever they
could.

Hadria shrank from the idea. It was adding another burden to her already
failing strength. To talk coherently, to be lively and make oneself
agreeable, to have to think about one's dress,--it all seemed
inexpressibly wearisome. But Lady Engleton was so genuinely eager to
administer her cure that Hadria yielded, half in gratitude, half in
order to save the effort of further resistance.

She dragged herself upstairs to dress, wishing to heaven she had
refused, after all. The thought of the lights, the sound of voices, the
complexity of elements and of life that she had to encounter, made her
shrink into herself. She had only one evening gown suitable for the
occasion. It was of some white silken stuff, with dull rich surface. A
bunch of yellow roses and green leaves formed the decoration. Hubert
approved of her appearance. To her own surprise she felt some new
feeling creep into her, under the influence of the exquisite attire. It
put her a little more in tune. At least there were beautiful and dainty
things in the world. The fresh green of the rose leaves, and the full
yet delicate yellow of the fragrant roses on the creamy lace, evoked a
feeling akin to the emotion stirred by certain kinds of music; or, in
other words, the artistic sensibility had been appealed to through
colour and texture, instead of through harmony.

The drawing-room at Craddock Place was glowing with subdued
candle-light. Lady Engleton's rooms carried one back to a past epoch,
among the dainty fancies