and
declared that Sarasate's _cadenza_ in the first movement, though
marvellous for technical skill, was not at all in the spirit of the
work. The influential writer applauded, drawing her on to fresh
displays of learning, taste, eloquence. She had a great deal to say
about somebody's 'technique of the left hand', of somebody else's
'tonal effects', of a certain pianist's 'warmth of touch'. It was a
truly musical gathering; each person at table had some exquisite phrase
to contribute. The hostess, who played no instrument, but doted upon
all, was of opinion that an executant should 'aim at mirroring his own
nature in his interpretation of a tone-poem'; whereupon another lady
threw out remarks on 'subjective interpretation', confessing her
preference for a method purely 'objective'. The influential critic
began to talk about Liszt, with whom he declared that he had been on
intimate terms; he grew fervent over the master's rhapsodies, with
their 'clanging rhythm and dithyrambic fury'.

'I don't know when I enjoyed myself so much,' said Alma gaily, as the
great young man pressed her hand at parting and avowed himself her
devoted admirer.

'My dear Mrs. Rolfe,' said the hostess privately, 'you were simply
brilliant! We are all looking forward so eagerly!'

And as soon as Alma was gone, the amiable lady talked about her to the
one remaining guest.

'_Isn't_ she delightful! I do so hope she will be a success. I'm afraid
so much depends upon it. Of course, you know that she is the daughter
of Bennet Frothingham? Didn't you know? Yes, and left without a
farthing. I suppose it was natural she should catch at an offer of
marriage, poor girl, but it seems to have been _most_ ill-advised. One
never sees her husband, and I'm afraid he is anything but kind to her.
He _may_ have calculated on her chances as a musician. I am told they
have little or nothing to depend upon. Do drum up your friends--will
you? It is to be at Prince's Hall, on May the 16th--I think. I feel,
don't you know, personally responsible; she would never have come out
but for my persuasion, and I'm so anxious for a success!'

The day drew near for Ada Wellington's debut. Alma met this young lady,
but they did not take to each other; Miss Wellington was a trifle
'loud', and, unless Alma mistook, felt fiercely jealous of any one
admired by Felix Dymes. As she could not entertain at their own house
(somewhere not far south of the Thames), Mrs. Wellington borrow