doubt.'

'In Porchester Terrace perhaps?'

'Perhaps.'

Alma met his eyes, and took away with her the consciousness of having
dared greatly. But the end was a great one.

In spite of the bad weather, Mrs. Frothingham had travelled up from
Basingstoke. Alma found her in the drawing-room, and saw at a glance
that there had been conversation on certain subjects between her and
Harvey; but not until the next day did Mrs. Frothingham speak of what
she had heard, and make her private comments for Alma's benefit.

'I thought Harvey was joking, dear. Have you reflected how many reasons
there are why you _shouldn't_----?'

The pathetic gaze of appeal produced no effect.

'Did Harvey ask you to talk about it, Mamma?'

'No. He takes it in the kindest way. But, Alma, you surely see that it
pains him?'

'Pains him? That shows you don't understand us, dear Mamma. We could
neither of us possibly do anything that would pain the other. We are in
perfect harmony, yet absolutely independent. It has all been talked
over and settled. You must have misunderstood Harvey altogether.'

From this position Alma could not be moved, and Mrs. Frothingham, too
discreet to incur the risk of interference, spoke no more of the matter
as it concerned man and wife. But another objection she urged with
almost tearful earnestness. Did Alma forget that her appearance in
public would give occasion to most disagreeable forms of gossip? And
even if she disregarded the scandal of a few years ago, would not many
of her acquaintances say and believe that necessity had driven her into
a professional career?

'They may say what they like, and think what they like,' was Alma's
lofty reply. 'If artists had always considered such trivial
difficulties, where should we have been? Suppose gossip does its
worst--it's all over in a few months; then I stand by my own merit.
Dear Mamma, _don't_ be old fashioned! You look so young and so
charming--indeed you do--that I can't bear to hear you talk in that
early Victorian way. Art is art, and all these other things have
nothing whatever to do with it. There, it's all over. Be good, and
amuse yourself whilst you are with us. I assure you we are the most
reasonable and the happiest people living.'

Mrs. Frothingham smiled at the compliment to herself; then sighed, and
held her peace.

CHAPTER 10

So day by day Alma's violin sounded, and day after day Harvey heard it
with a growing impatience. As is common