new light upon the position of Elinor,
which he had every desire to keep from her mother; for Mrs. Dennistoun,
though she felt that her child was not happy, attributed that to
any reason rather than a failure in her husband's love. Elinor's
hot rejection of the very idea of leaving Phil, her dislike of any
suggestion to that effect, even for a week, even for a day, seemed to
her mother a proof that her husband, at all events, remained as dear to
her as ever; and John would rather have cut his tongue out than betray
any chance rumour he heard--and he heard many--to this effect. He was of
opinion, indeed, that in London, and especially at a London club, not
only is everything known that is to be known, but much is known that has
never existed, and never will exist if not blown into being by those
whose office it is to invent the grief to come; therefore he thought it
wisest to keep away, lest by any chance something might drop from him
which would awaken a new crowd of disquietudes in Mrs. Dennistoun's
heart. Another incident, even more disquieting than gossip, had indeed
occurred to John. It had happened to him to meet Lady Mariamne at a
great _omnium gatherum_ of a country house, where all sorts of people
were invited, and where that lady claimed his acquaintance as one
of the least alarming of the grave "set." She not only claimed his
acquaintance, but set up a sort of friendship on the ground of his
relationship to Elinor, and in an unoccupied moment after dinner one day
poured a great many confidences into his ear.

"Isn't it such a pity," she said, "that Phil and she do not get on? Oh,
they did at first, like a house on fire! And if she had only minded her
ways they might still have been as thick---- But these little country
girls, however they may disguise it at first, they all turn like that.
The horridest little puritan! Phil does no more than a hundred men--than
almost all men do: amuse himself with anything that throws itself in his
way, don't you know. And sometimes, perhaps, he does go rather far. I
think myself he sometimes goes a little too far--for good taste you
know, and that sort of thing."

It was more amazing to hear Lady Mariamne talk of good taste than
anything that had ever come in John Tatham's way before, but he was too
horribly, desperately interested to see the fun.

"She will go following him about wherever he goes. She oughtn't to do
that, don't you know. She should let him take his swing,