crifice everything to her comfort. When he found that this foolish
step on her part had been followed by her retirement from London, he was
greatly mystified and quite unable to understand. He met Elinor some
time after at one of those assemblies to which "everybody" goes. It was,
I think, the soiree at the Royal Academy--where amid the persistent
crowd in the great room there was a whirling crowd, twisting in and out
among the others, bound for heaven knows how many other places, and
pausing here and there on tiptoe to greet an acquaintance, at the tail
of which, carried along by its impetus, was Elinor. She was not looking
either well or happy, but she was responding more or less to the impulse
of her set, exchanging greetings and banal words with dozens of people,
and sometimes turning a wistful and weary gaze towards the pictures on
the walls, as if she would gladly escape from the mob of her companions
to them, or anywhere. It was no impulse of taste or artistic feeling,
however, it is to be feared, but solely the weariness of her mind. John
watched her for some time before he approached her. Phil was not of the
party, which was nothing extraordinary, for little serious as that
assembly is, it was still of much too serious a kind for Phil; but Lady
Mariamne was there, and other ladies with whom Elinor was in the habit
of pursuing that gregarious hunt after pleasure which carries the train
of votaries along at so breakneck a pace, and with so little time to
enjoy the pleasure they are pursuing. When he saw indications that the
stream was setting backwards to the entrance, again to separate and
take its various ways to other entertainments, he broke into the throng
and called Elinor's attention to himself. For a moment she smiled with
genuine pleasure at the sight of him, but then changed her aspect almost
imperceptibly. "Oh, John!" she said with that smile: but immediately
looked towards Lady Mariamne, as if undecided what to do.

"You need not look--as if I would try to detain you, Elinor."

"Do you think I am afraid of your detaining me? I thought I should be
sure to meet you to-night, and was on the outlook. How is it that we
never see you now?"

He refused the natural retort that she had never asked to see him, and
only said, with a smile, "I hear my aunt is gone."

"Do you mean to say that you only came for her? That is an unkind
speech. Yes, she has gone. It was cruel to keep her in town for the best
part o