‘Oh, mother!’ Letty protested.  And she added, less seriously, ’You mustn’t let Alfred hear you say such a thing as that.’

‘I’m glad to say,’ replied Mrs. Waltham, ’that Alfred has grown much more sensible in his views of late.’

Adela entered the room.  Letty was not wrong in saying that she grew more beautiful.  Life had few joys for her, save intellectual, but you saw on her countenance the light of freedom.  In her manner there was an unconscious dignity which made her position in the house one of recognised superiority; even her mother seldom ventured to chat without reserve in her presence.  Alfred drew up in the midst of a tirade if she but seemed about to speak.  Yet it was happiness to live with her; where she moved there breathed an air of purity and sweetness.

She asked if Alice had returned from her walk.  Receiving a reply in the negative, she went out into the garden.

‘Adela looks happy to-day,’ said Letty.  ’That article in the paper has pleased her very much.’

‘I really hope she won’t do such a thing again,’ remarked Mrs. Waltham, with dignified disapproval.  ’It seems very unlady-like to write letters to the newspapers.’

‘But it was brave of her.’

’To be sure, we must not judge her as we should ordinary people.  Still, I am not sure that she is always right.  I shall never allow that she did right in paying back that money to those wretches in London.  I am sure she wanted it far more than they did.  The bloodthirsty creatures!’

Letty shuddered, but would not abandon defence of Adela.

’Still it was very honourable of her, mother.  She understands those things better than we can.’

‘Perhaps so, my dear,’ said Mrs. Waltham, meaning that her own opinion was not likely to be inferior in justice to that of anyone else.

Adela had been in the garden for a few minutes when she saw Alice coming towards her.  The poor Princess had a bright look, as if some joyful news had just come to her.  Adela met her with a friendly smile.

‘There is someone you used to know,’ Alice said, speaking with embarrassment, and pointing towards the road.  ’You remember Mr. Keene?  I met him.  He says he wrote that in the “Chronicle.”  He would like to speak to you if you’ll let him.’

‘I shall be glad to,’ Adela replied, with a look of curiosity.

They walked to the garden gate.  Mr. Keene was just outside; Alice beckoned to him to enter.  His appearance was a great improvement on the old days; he had grown a beard, and in his eye you saw the responsible editor.  Altogether he seemed to have gained in moral solidity.  None the less, his manner of approaching Adela, hat in hand, awoke reminiscences of the footlights.

’It is a great pleasure to me to see you, Mrs. Mutimer.  I trust that my few comments on your admirable letter were of a nature to afford you satisfaction.’

‘Thank you very much, Mr. Keene,’ Adela replied.  ’You wrote very kindly.’