to throw these newspapers
into the fire; it would be a final sacrifice, a grave symbolic act, and
might bring her peace. Yet she could not. Long years hence, would it
not be a legitimate pride to show these things to her children? A
misgiving mingled with the thought, but her reluctance prevailed. She
made up a parcel, wrote upon it, 'My Recital, May 1891', and locked it
up with other most private memorials.

She had not long to wait for her answer from Dymes. He apologised for
his delay in the matter of business, and promised that a detailed
statement should be sent to her in a very few days. The unfortunate
state of her health--there Alma smiled--moved him to sympathy and
profound regret; her abandonment of a professional career _could_ not,
_must_ not, be a final decision!

Something prompted her to hand this letter to Harvey.

'I took it for granted,' he said humorously, 'that the man had sent you
a substantial cheque long ago.'

'I believe the balance will be on my side.'

'Would you like me to see to the rest of the business for you?'

'I don't think that's necessary, is it?'

To her relief, Harvey said no more. She waited for the promised
balance-sheet, but weeks passed by and it did not arrive. An
explanation of this readily occurred to her: Dymes calculated upon
bringing her to an interview. She thought of Harvey's proposal, and
wished she could dare to accept it; but the obscure risks were too
great. So, months elapsed, till the affair seemed forgotten.

They never spoke to each other of Hugh Carnaby or of Sibyl.

Meanwhile, Alma did not lack society. Mrs. Abbott, whom, without change
of feeling, she grew accustomed to see frequently, introduced her to
the Langland family, and in Mrs. Langland she found a not uncongenial
acquaintance. This lady had known many griefs, and seemed destined to
suffer many more; she had wrinkles on her face which should not have
been there at forty-five; but no one ever heard her complain or saw her
look downhearted.

In her zeal for housewifery, Alma saw much to admire and to imitate in
Mrs. Langland. She liked the good-humoured modesty with which the elder
lady always spoke of herself, and was not displeased at observing an
air of deference when the conversation turned on such high matters as
literature and art. Mrs. Langland knew all about the recital at
Prince's Hall; she knew, moreover, as appeared from a casual remark one
day, that Mrs. Rolfe had skill in 'landsc