h, Basil Morton and his wife, one or two of Alma's
relatives. Little Hugh saw less and less of his mother, but he
continued to thrive; and Harvey understood by now that Alma must not be
expected to take much interest in the domestic side of things. It
simply was not her forte.

She had ceased to play upon her violin, save for the entertainment and
admiration of friends. After her return from Madeira she made the
acquaintance of a lady skilled in water-colour drawing, and herewith
began a new enthusiasm. Her progress was remarkable, and corresponded
to an energy not less than that she had long ago put forth in music. In
the pursuit of landscape she defied weather and fatigue; she would pass
half the night abroad, studying moonlight, or rise at an unheard-of
hour to catch the hues of dawn. When this ardour began to fail, her
husband was vexed rather than surprised. He knew Alma's characteristic
weakness, and did not like to be so strongly reminded of it. For about
this time he was reading and musing much on questions of heredity.

In a moment of confidence he had ventured to ask Mrs. Frothingham
whether she could tell him anything of Alma's mother. The question,
though often in his mind, could hardly have passed his lips, had not
Mrs. Frothingham led up to it by speaking of her own life before she
married: how she had enjoyed the cares of country housekeeping; how
little she had dreamt of ever being rich; how Bennet Frothingham, who
had known her in his early life, sought her out when he began to be
prosperous, therein showing the fine qualities of his nature, for she
had nothing in the world but gentle birth and a lady's education. Alma
was then a young girl of thirteen, and had been motherless for eight
years. Thus came Harvey's opportunity. Alma herself had already
imparted to him all she knew: that her mother was born in England,
emigrated early with her parents to Australia, returned to London as a
young woman, married, and died at twenty-seven. To this story Mrs.
Frothingham could add little, but the supplement proved interesting.
Bennet Frothingham spoke of his first marriage as a piece of folly; it
resulted in unhappiness, yet, the widow was assured, with no glaring
fault on either side. Alma's mother was handsome, and had some natural
gifts, especially a good voice, which she tried to use in public, but
without success. Her education scarcely went beyond reading and
writing. She died suddenly, after an evening a