It was two days before Christmas that this great event usually took place,—an event spoken of by Mrs. Johnson as though it had been a solemn feast, with an appointed date in the Church’s year; and it formed almost the most trying of the many trying occasions which chequered her earthly career. This season, thanks to the valuable assistance of Miss Askam in the dreary business known as ‘decorating,’ Mrs. Johnson felt her difficulties much lightened, and looked forward to the evening’s entertainment with a kind of ‘rest-and-be-thankful’ feeling, rare indeed in her experience. Eleanor felt less comfort than Mrs. Johnson, in the anticipation of the evening. She hardly knew how it was, or with whom the invitation had originated, whether with Otho, herself, or Magdalen’s self—but an invitation had certainly been given to the latter to dine at Thorsgarth, and go with the party from there to the entertainment. ‘The party’ meant all of them!—Eleanor, Magdalen, Gilbert, and Otho. Eleanor had been unaffectedly astonished when Otho had said he was going. She had promised Mrs. Johnson to be there herself, and did not intend to fail her; but she had expected to go alone, call for the doctor’s sister, Mrs. Parker, on the way, and under the decent, if not highly distinguished chaperonage of that lady, sit through the concert, and derive from it what enjoyment she might. She had resolved to know nothing about Gilbert and his arrangements, and to ignore Magdalen, except by a bow, and a few words. This new scheme had completely changed the aspect of things. She had had to send a note to Mrs. Parker explaining that, so far from being alone, she would have a party with her, and must remain with them. And then there was the prospect of the concert itself, and of the company of her brother and Gilbert Langstroth, and of Magdalen Wynter, who would, of course, join them as soon as her part in the performance should be over. It was a thoroughly painful prospect to her; not the less so, in that there was absolutely no excuse for her shirking the ceremony. She returned to Thorsgarth from the Vicarage, in the afternoon, and presently went upstairs to dress for the evening’s entertainment. The most competent authorities had assured her that at these concerts it was the custom for the ladies of the vicinity to go in full dress, or, at any rate, in unmistakable evening dress, in order to do honour to their town and townspeople, and to show that they did not labour under the idea that ‘anything would do’ for a Bradstane concert. Following out this tradition, Miss Askam had caused her maid to array her in a quaint-looking but handsome gown of velvet and brocade. She knew that dresses of this kind, more splendid than airy, suited her, and wore them by preference to any others.