e;
for there re people who have a peculiar liking for the little room in
which she holds her modest gatherings. She is talking at present with a
lady who, by her costume, is of the house, a lady of some
seven-and-twenty years or a little more, and strikingly beautiful.
Beatrice Redwing has not yet changed her name, though often enough
solicited to do so; when her mother died, now rather more than a year
ago, she willingly accepted the shelter of Mrs. Ashley Birks' roof, as
she would else have had to live alone. In one respect she has not
changed, her dress is exquisite; but to judge from her expression as she
talks, she has become somewhat graver. Visitors have a special reason
for regarding her with glances of curiosity and admiration. Though known
to be extremely wealthy, it was rumoured that she was about to appear
before the public as a vocalist, having prepared herself by a long
course of the most rigid study. Her first appearance was looked forward
to as an event of note in the musical world, for her native gifts were
unusual, and the results of her training proportionately significant.

'It must be very gratifying to you,' Mrs. Baxendale had said, as she
came to a chair by her niece and began to talk of Wilfrid's success.

'Yes, I am glad of it,' was the quiet reply.

'Will he be here this afternoon?'

'I'm not sure; I think so. Ah, there he is!'

For at that moment had come the announcement of the name they had on
their lips. Beatrice's exclamation was made in a very subdued voice, but
she moved slightly in her chair, and it was not within her resources to
subdue the glister of her dark eyes and the warmth softly expanding upon
her cheek. Mrs. Birks floated towards her nephew with airs of
rightly-tuned welcome; she could not, of course, make much of him, but
her very familiarity made graceful claim to a share in his glory.
Wilfrid was sensibly changed during the years we have allowed to pass
silently by. To begin with, he had grown a beard. His health seemed
finally to have established itself on a sound basis; his cheeks were
growing sunny, and he showed the proportions of a very complete man. At
the present moment, his consciousness of regards fixed upon him
heightened his colour; his fine eyes danced in light; he checked a
smile, and spoke sparingly here and there. One part of his nature
revelled in the joy of this foretaste of distinction; he had looked
forward to it, had laboured for it, its sweetness w