e. She seemed either not to hear it at all, or to hear it with
impatience. She talked in a listless way, and appeared to be thinking of
anything but what was said.

At last, she asked Mr. Balfour if she could have the liberty to obtrude
a matter of business upon him. She did not like to interfere with his
home enjoyments, but he would oblige her much by giving her half an hour
of private conversation. Mr. Balfour looked at his wife, received a
significant glance, and invited the lady into his library.

It was a long interview. Nine o'clock, ten o'clock, eleven o'clock
sounded, and then Mrs. Balfour went upstairs. It was nearly midnight
when Mrs. Dillingham emerged from the door. She handed a bank-note to
the impatient coachman, and ordered him to drive her home. As she passed
Mr. Belcher's corner of the street, she saw Phipps helping his master to
mount the steps. He had had an evening of carousal among some of his new
acquaintances. "Brute!" she said to herself, and withdrew her head from
the window.

Admitted at her door, she went to her room in her unusual wrappings,
threw herself upon her knees, and buried her face in her bed. She did
not pray; she hardly lifted her thoughts. She was excessively weary. Why
she knelt she did not know; but on her knees she thought over the
occurrences of the evening. Her hungry soul was full--full of hopes,
plans, purposes. She had found something to love.

What is that angel's name who, shut away from ten thousand selfish,
sinful lives, stands always ready, when the bearers of those lives are
tired of them, and are longing for something better, to open the door
into a new realm? What patience and persistence are his! Always waiting,
always prepared, cherishing no resentments, willing to lead, anxious to
welcome, who is he, and whence came he? If Mrs. Dillingham did not pray,
she had a vision of this heavenly visitant, and kissed the hem of his
garments.

She rose and walked to her dressing-table. There she found a note in
Mrs. Belcher's handwriting, inviting her to a drive in the Park with her
and Mr. Belcher on the following afternoon. Whether the invitation was
self-moved, or the result of a suggestion from Mr. Belcher, she did not
know. In truth, she did not care. She had wronged Mrs. Belcher in many
ways, and she would go.

Why was it that when the new and magnificent carriage rolled up to her
door the next afternoon, with its wonderful horses and showy equipage,
and appoi