If there had been a little diversity in the Campbell family it would have been a more bearable household. But they had the same prejudices and the same likes and dislikes, differing only in the intensity with which they held them. Mrs. Campbell and her son Robert were the most positive, Isabel was but little behind them, and Christina was easily bent as the others desired. Under present circumstances she could only be true to her family; under any other circumstances, it was doubtful if she could be false. This monotony of feeling pressed like a weight on Theodora, who felt that she could have borne opposition and unkindness better if there had been more variety in their exhibition; for then Life might have had some interesting fluctuations. But Mrs. Campbell did precisely the same things every day, and to go to the works at the same moment every morning was the sum-total of Robert's life. The girls had certain dresses for the morning, and certain other dresses for the afternoon, and their employments were quite as uniform. There were even certain menus for every day's dinner in the week, and these were repeated with little or no change year in and year out. For Mrs. Campbell hated the unexpected; she tried to order her life so that there should be no surprises in it. On the contrary Theodora delighted in the unforeseen. She would have wished that even in heaven she might have happy surprises--the sudden meeting with an old friend, or good news from the dear earth still loved and remembered. However, she had that hopefulness and virginity of spirit that makes the best of what cannot be changed, and as the weeks went on she learned to ignore the ill-will she could not conquer and to bear in silence the wrongs not to be put right by any explanations. And she soon made many acquaintances, and a few sincere friends. Among the latter were Dr. Robertson and his wife, and Mrs. Oliphant, the American. The former had called on Theodora about ten days after her home-coming and had been heartily attracted by her intelligence and beauty. The doctor was passionately fond of good music, and when he noticed the open piano and the name Mendelssohn on the music above it, he asked in an eager voice: "You will play for me?" "Yes," Theodora answered, "very gladly! My piano is my great friend and companion. It feels with me in every mood. What shall I play?" "The song before you. Mendelssohn can get very near to a musical soul." She rose at once, and after a short prelude played in a manner so masterful as to cause the minister to look at his wife in wonder as her magnificent voice lifted that pathetic prayer, which has spoken for the sorrowful and suffering in all ages: "O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest."