ow
brow. She was elaborately dressed, with only the most fashionable
symbols of widowhood; rings adorned her podgy little hand, and
a bracelet her white wrist. Refinement she possessed only in the
society-journal sense, but her intonation was that of the idle class,
and her grammar did not limp.

'There--let me look. Oh, I think that's an improvement--more
_distingue_. And now tell me the news. How is your father?'

'Very bad, I'm afraid,' said Horace, when he had regarded himself in a
mirror with something of doubtfulness. 'Nancy says that she's afraid he
won't get well.'

'Oh, you don't say that! Oh, how very sad! But let us hope. I can't
think it's so bad as that.'

Horace sat in thought. Mrs. Damerel, her bright eyes subduing their
gaiety to a keen reflectiveness, put several questions regarding the
invalid, then for a moment meditated.

'Well, we must hope for the best. Let me know to-morrow how he gets
on--be sure you let me know. And if anything _should_ happen--oh, but
that's too sad; we won't talk about it.'

Again she meditated, tapping the floor, and, as it seemed, trying not to
smile.

'Don't be downcast, my dear boy. Never meet sorrow half-way--if you knew
how useful I have found it to remember that maxim. I have gone through
sad, sad things--ah! But now tell me of your own affairs. Have you seen
_la petite_?'

'I just saw her the other evening,' he answered uneasily.

'Just? What does that mean, I wonder? Now you don't look anything like
so well as when you were at Scarborough. You're worrying; yes, I know
you are. It's your nervous constitution, my poor boy. So you just saw
her? No more imprudences?'

She examined his face attentively, her lips set with tolerable firmness.

'It's a very difficult position, you know,' said Horace, wriggling in
his chair. 'I can't get out of it all at once. And the truth is, I'm not
sure that I wish to.'

Mrs. Damerel drew her eyebrows together, and gave a loud tap on the
floor.

'Oh, that's weak--that's very weak! After promising me! Now listen;
listen seriously.' She raised a finger. 'If it goes on, I have
nothing--more--whatever to do with you. It would distress me very, very
much; but I can't interest myself in a young man who makes love to a
girl so very far beneath him. Be led by me, Horace, and your future
will be brilliant. Prefer this young lady of Camberwell, and lose
everything.'

Horace leaned forward and drooped his head.

'I don't think y