r dinner, which warmed
up well. Then we persuaded her to take a little more champagne, but Dr.
Nash said be careful for fear of reaction. Then she was very chatty and
cheerful, and would go back a great deal on old times with mother....' I
told you she would," said Gwen, breaking off abruptly.

"Of course she will always go back on old times," said Adrian.

"I didn't mean that. I meant call her aunt 'mother' without the 'my.'
Let me go on. Don't interrupt! '... old times with mother, and one thing
in particular, their hair. Mother pleased her, because she could
remember a little child Jacky they would puzzle to tell which hair was
which, saying if she held them like that Jacky could tell, and have
sugar. For their hair now is quite strong white and grey instead of both
the same....' She was telling us about Jacky--me and Irene--yesterday,
and I suppose that was what set her off.... 'She slept very sound and
talked, and then slept well at night. So we are in good spirits about
her, and thank God she may be better and get stronger. That is all I
have to tell now and remain dutifully yours....' Isn't that delightful?
Quite a good report!" Instructions followed to Onesimus not to bring any
further news to Pensham, but to take his next instalment to the Towers.

These things occurred on the Friday, the day after the visit to
Chorlton. Certainly that letter of Widow Thrale's justified Lady
Gwendolen in feeling at ease about Mrs. Picture during the remainder of
her visit to Pensham, and the blame she apportioned to herself for an
imagined neglect afterwards was quite undeserved.

Adrian Torrens ought to have been in the seventh heaven during the
remainder of an almost uninterrupted afternoon. Not that it was
absolutely uninterrupted, because evidences of a chaperon in abeyance
were not wanting. A mysterious voice, of unparalleled selectness, or
_bon-ton_, or gentility, emanated from a neighbouring retreat with an
accidentally open door, where the lady of the house was corresponding
with philanthropists in spite of interruptions. It said:--"What _is_
that? I know it _so_ well," or, "That air is very familiar to me," or,
"I cannot help thinking Catalani would have taken that slower." To all
of which Gwen returned suitable replies, tending to encourage a belief
in her questioner's mind that its early youth had been passed in a
German principality with Kapellmeisters and Conservatoriums and a Court
Opera Company. This excellent