For a man to let his wife go to a party
by herself was not after all so dreadful a thing. Many men did so, and
the women did not complain; to be sure they were generally older, more
accustomed to manage for themselves than Elinor: but still, a man need
not be a blackguard because he did that. So John stopped his own ready
judgment, but still I am afraid in his heart pronounced Phil Compton's
sentence all the same. He did not say a word about this encounter to
Mrs. Dennistoun; at least, he did tell her that he had met Elinor at the
So-and-So's, which, as it was one of the best houses in London, was
pleasing to a mother to hear.

"And how was she looking?" Mrs. Dennistoun cried.

"She was looking--beautiful----" said John. "I don't flatter, and I
never thought her so in the old times--but it is the only word I can
use----"

"Didn't I tell you so?" said the mother, pleased. "She is quite
embellished and improved--therefore she must be happy."

"It is certainly the very best evidence----"

"Isn't it? But it so often happens otherwise, even in happy marriages. A
girl feels strange, awkward, out of it, in her new life. Elinor must
have entirely accustomed herself, adapted herself to it, and to them, or
she would not look so well. That is the greatest comfort I can have."

And John kept his own counsel about Elinor's majestic solitude and the
watchful old coachman in the hired brougham. Her husband might still be
full of love and tenderness all the same. It was a great effort of the
natural integrity of his character to pronounce like this; but he did it
in the interests of justice, and for Elinor's sake and her mother's said
nothing of the circumstances at all.

It may be supposed that when Elinor paid the last of her sudden visits
at the cottage it was a heavy moment both for mother and daughter. It
was the time when fashionable people finish the season by going to
Goodwood--and to Goodwood Elinor was going with a party, Lady Mariamne
and a number of the "set." She told her mother, to amuse her, of the new
dresses she had got for this important occasion. "Phil says one may go
in sackcloth and ashes the remainder of the year, but we must be fine
for Goodwood," she said. "I wanted him to believe that I had too many
clothes already, but he was inexorable. It is not often, is it, that
one's husband is more anxious than one's self about one's dress?"

"He wants you to do him credit, Elinor."

"Well, mamma, there is no