and
perhaps they would have been right--who can tell? She did not--denying
herself, keeping herself by main force in her solitude, not to interfere
with the life of her child, which was drawn on lines so different from
any of hers--and perhaps she was wrong. Who knows, except by the event,
which is the best or the worst way in any of our human movements, which
are so short-sighted? And twice during the season Elinor found means to
come to the cottage for a night as she had done at first. These were
occasions of great happiness, it need not be said--but of many thoughts
and wonderings too. She had always an excuse for Phil. He had meant
until the last moment to come with her--some one had turned up, quite
unexpectedly, who had prevented him. It was a fatality; especially when
she came down in July did she insist upon this. He had been invited
quite suddenly to a political dinner to meet one of the Ministers from
whom he had hopes of an appointment. "For we find that we can't go on
enjoying ourselves for ever," she said gayly, "and Phil has made up his
mind he must get something to do."

"It is always the best way," said Mrs. Dennistoun.

"I am not so very sure, mamma, when you have never been used to it. Of
course, some people would be wretched without work. Fancy John with
nothing to do! How he would torment his wife--if he had one. But Phil
never does that. He is very easy to live with. He is always after
something, and leaves me as free as if he had a day's work in an
office."

This slipped out, with a smile: but evidently after it was said Elinor
regretted she had said it, and thought that more might be drawn from the
admission than she intended. She added quietly, "Of course a settled
occupation would interfere with many things. We could not go out
together continually as we do now."

Was there any way of reconciling these two statements? Mrs. Dennistoun
tried and tried in vain to make them fit into each other: and yet no
doubt there was some way.

"And perhaps another season, mother, if Phil was in a public office--it
seems so strange to think of Phil having an office--you might come up,
don't you think, to town for a time? Would it be a dreadful bore to you
to leave the country just when it is at its best? I'm afraid it would be
a dreadful bore: but we could run about together in the mornings when he
was busy, and go to see the pictures and things. How pleasant it would
be!"

"It would be delightful for me