into that very
circle of the best English and the best French society which contained
in it the elements most adverse to George's hopes. Between this time and
that she had no special engagement, and she had only settled to write
and warn her aunt of her return to London a day or two before she left
The Glen Tower.

Under these circumstances, the first, the all-important necessity was to
prevail on her to prolong her stay beyond the allotted six weeks by
ten days. After the caution to be silent impressed on me (and most
naturally, poor boy) in George's letter, I felt that I could only appeal
to her on the ordinary ground of hospitality. Would this be sufficient
to effect the object?

I was sure that the hours of the morning and the afternoon had, thus
far, been fully and happily occupied by her various amusements indoors
and out. She was no more weary of her days now than she had been when
she first came among us. But I was by no means so certain that she was
not tired of her evenings. I had latterly noticed symptoms of weariness
after the lamps were lit, and a suspicious regularity in retiring to
bed the moment the clock struck ten. If I could provide her with a new
amusement for the long evenings, I might leave the days to take care
of themselves, and might then make sure (seeing that she had no
special engagement in London until the middle of November) of her being
sincerely thankful and ready to prolong her stay.

How was this to be done? The piano and the novels had both failed to
attract her. What other amusement was there to offer?

It was useless, at present, to ask myself such questions as these. I was
too much agitated to think collectedly on the most trifling subjects. I
was even too restless to stay in my own room. My son's letter had given
me so fresh an interest in Jessie that I was now as impatient to see her
as if we were about to meet for the first time. I wanted to look at
her with my new eyes, to listen to her with my new ears, to study her
secretly with my new purposes, and my new hopes and fears. To my dismay
(for I wanted the very weather itself to favor George's interests),
it was raining heavily that morning. I knew, therefore, that I should
probably find her in her own sitting-room. When I knocked at her door,
with George's letter crumpled up in my hand, with George's hopes in full
possession of my heart, it is no exaggeration to say that my nerves were
almost as much fluttered, and my ideas