‘Indeed, indeed not!  You are goodness itself.’

‘How is Mrs. Frothingham?’

The question was asked with infinite delicacy, head and body bent forward, eyes floatingly averted.

’Really ill, I’m afraid.  She has fainted several times —­ yesterday was unconscious for nearly half an hour.’

Sibyl flinched.  Mention of physical suffering affected her most disagreeably; she always shunned the proximity of people in ill health, and a possibility of infection struck her with panic.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.  But it will pass over.’

‘I hope so.  I have done what I could.’

‘I’m sure you have.’

’But it’s so hard —­ when every word of comfort sounds heartless —­ when it’s kindest to say nothing ——­’

’We won’t talk about it, dear.  You yourself —­ I can see what you have gone through.  You must get away as soon as possible; this gloomy weather makes everything worse.’

She paused, and with an air of discreet interest awaited Alma’s reply.

‘Yes, I hope to get away.  I shall see if it’s possible.’

The girl’s look strayed with a tired uncertainty; her hands never ceased to move and fidget; only the habits of good breeding kept her body still.

‘Of course, it is too soon for you to have made plans.’

‘It’s so difficult,’ replied Alma, her features more naturally expressive, her eyes a little brighter.  ’You see, I am utterly dependent upon Mamma.  I had better tell you at once —­ Mamma will have enough to live upon, however things turn out.  She has money of her own; but of course I have nothing —­ nothing whatever.  I think, most likely, Mamma will go to live with her sister, in the country, for a time.  She couldn’t bear to go on living in London, and she doesn’t like life abroad.  If only I could do as I wish!’

‘I guess what that would be,’ said the other, smiling gently.

‘To take up music as a profession —­ yes.  But I’m not ready for it.’

’Oh, half a year of serious study; with your decided talent, I should think you couldn’t hesitate.  You are a born musician.’

The words acted as a cordial.  Alma roused herself, lifted her drooping head and smiled.

‘That’s the praise of a friend.’

‘And the serious opinion of one not quite unfit to judge,’ rejoined Sibyl, with her air of tranquil self-assertion.  ’Besides, we have agreed —­ haven’t we? —­ that the impulse is everything.  What you wish for, try for.  Just now you have lost courage; you are not yourself.  Wait till you recover your balance.’

‘It isn’t that I want to make a name, or anything of that sort,’ said Alma, in a voice that was recovering its ordinary pitch and melody.  ’I dare say I never should; I might just support myself, and that would be all.  But I want to be free —­ I want to break away.’

‘Of course!’

’I have been thinking that I shall beg Mamma to let me have just a small allowance, and go off by myself.  I know people at Leipzig —­ the Gassners, you remember.  I could live there on little enough, and work, and feel free.  Of course, there’s really no reason why I shouldn’t.  I have been feeling so bound and helpless; and now that nobody has any right to hinder me, you think it would be the wise thing?’