empts to amuse her, all the fascinations and
accomplishments of the elegant Theobald, were thrown away upon an
unreceptive soil.

There were not many amusements open to a London public at that dull
season of the year, except the theatres, and for those places of
entertainment Mrs. Pallinson cherished a shuddering aversion. But there
were occasional morning and evening "recitals," or concerts, where the
music for the most part was of a classical and recondite
character--feasts of melody, at which long-buried and forgotten sonatas
of Gluck, or Bach, or Chembini were introduced to a discriminating public
for the first time; and to these Mrs. Pallinson and Theobald conducted
poor Adela Branston, whose musical proclivities had never yet soared into
higher regions than those occupied by the sparkling joyous genius of
Rossini, and to whom the revived sonatas, or the familiar old-established
gems of classical art, were as unintelligible as so much Hebrew or
Syriac. Perhaps they were not much more delightful to Mrs. Pallinson; but
that worthy matron had a profound veneration for the conventionalities of
life, and these classical matinees and recitals seemed to her exactly the
correct sort of thing for the amusement of a young widow whose husband
had not very long ago been consigned to the tomb.

So poor Adela was dragged hither and thither to gloomy concert-rooms,
where the cold winter's light made the performers look pale and wan, or
to aristocratic drawing-rooms, graciously lent to some favoured pianiste
by their distinguished owners; and so, harassed and weary, but lacking
spirit to oppose her own feeble inclinations to the overpowering force of
Mrs. Pallinson's will, the helpless little widow went submissively
wherever they chose to take her, tormented all the while by the thought
of John Saltram's coldness, and wondering when this cruel time of
probation would be at an end, and he would show himself her devoted slave
once more. It was very weak and foolish to think of him like this, no
doubt; undignified and unwomanly, perhaps; but Adela Branston was little
more than a child in knowledge of the world, and John Saltram was the
only man who had ever touched her heart. She stood quite alone in the
world too, lonely with all her wealth, and there was no one to share her
affection with this man, who had acquired so complete an influence over
her.

She endured the dreary course of her days patiently enough for a
considerable t