The themes of conversation at these weekly gatherings were varied, but social relations and social reform were in most cases the leading topics.  Two or three evenings at Mrs. Talbot’s were enough to satisfy Mr. Emerson that the people who met there were not of a character to exercise a good influence upon his wife.  But how was he to keep her from associations that evidently presented strong attractions?  Direct opposition he feared to make, for the experience of a few months had been sufficient to show him that she would resist all attempts on his part to exercise a controlling influence.

He tried at first to keep her away by feigning slight indisposition, or weariness, or disinclination to go out, and so lead her to exercise some self-denial for his sake.  But her mind was too firmly bent on going to be turned so easily from its purpose; she did not consider trifles like these of sufficient importance to interfere with the pleasures of an evening at one of Mrs. Talbot’s conversaziones.  Mr. Emerson felt hurt at his wife’s plain disregard of his comfort and wishes, and said within himself, with bitterness of feeling, that she was heartless.

One day, at dinner-time, he said to her—­

“I shall not be able to go to Mrs. Talbot’s to-night.”

“Why?” Irene looked at her husband in surprise, and with a shade of disappointment on her countenance.

“I have business of importance with a gentleman who resides in Brooklyn, and have promised to meet him at his house this evening.”

“You might call for me on your return,” said Irene.

“The time of my return will be uncertain.  I cannot now tell how late I may be detained in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sorry.”  And Irene bent down her eyes in a thoughtful way.  “I promised Mrs. Talbot to be there to-night,” she added.

“Mrs. Talbot will excuse you when she knows why you were absent.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Irene.

“She must be a very unreasonable woman,” remarked Emerson.

“That doesn’t follow.  You could take me there, and Mrs. Talbot find me an escort home.”

“Who?” Emerson knit his brows and glanced sharply at his wife.  The suggestion struck him unpleasantly.

“Major Willard, for instance;” and she smiled in a half-amused, half-mischievous way.

“You cannot be in earnest, surely?” said Emerson.

“Why not?” queried his wife, looking at her husband with calm, searching eyes.

“You would not, in the first place, be present there, unaccompanied by your husband; and, in the second place, I hardly think my wife would be seen in the street, at night, on the arm of Major Willard.”

Mr. Emerson spoke like a man who was in earnest.

“Do you know anything wrong of Major Willard?” asked Irene.

“I know nothing about him, right or wrong,” was replied.  “But, if I have any skill in reading men, he is very far from being a fine specimen.”