that was now sufficiently established, and what was much more to the point was that Mr. Gravener had now raised an objection to it. That is he had protested against her being at Wimbledon, where in the innocence of his heart he had originally brought her himself; in short he wanted her to put an end to their engagement in the only proper, the only happy manner.
"And why in the world doesn't she do so?" I inquired.
Adelaide hesitated. "She says you know." Then on my also hesitating she added: "A condition he makes."
"The Coxon Fund?" I cried.
"He has mentioned to her his having told you about it."
"Ah, but so little! Do you mean she has accepted the trust!"
"In the most splendid spirit—as a duty about which there can be no two opinions." Then said Adelaide after an instant: "Of course she's thinking of Mr. Saltram."
I gave a quick cry at this, which, in its violence, made my visitor turn pale. "How very awful!"
"Awful?"
"Why, to have anything to do with such an idea oneself."
"I'm sure you needn't!" Mrs. Mulville gave a slight toss of her head.
"He isn't good enough!" I went on; to which she responded with an ejaculation almost as lively as mine had been. This made me, with genuine, immediate horror, exclaim: "You haven't influenced her, I hope!" and my emphasis brought back the blood with a rush to poor Adelaide's face. She declared while she blushed (for I had frightened her again), that she had never influenced anybody and that the girl had only seen and heard and judged for herself. He had influenced her, if I would, as he did everyone who had a soul: that word, as we knew, even expressed
