"Because there is to be a grand oratorio of Handel's. It is for the benefit of the clergy's sons' school, and it is one that has not been performed in England for I forget how many years. It is _Saul_. You have heard the Dead March in Saul, of course; everyone has; but no one has ever heard the oratorio, and come you must. There shall be no one but ourselves--you and I, and your uncle and your brother to take care of us. They have promised to come; and Stentoroni is to take Saul, and they have the finest voices in Europe; and they say that Herr Von Waasen, the conductor, is the greatest musician in the world. There have been eight performances in that great room--oh! what do you call it?--while I was away; and now there is only to be this one, and I'm longing to hear it; but I won't go unless you come with me--and you need not dress. It begins at three o'clock, and ends at six, and you can come just as you are now; and an oratorio is really exactly the same as going to church, so you have no earthly excuse; and I'll send out my carriage at one for you; and you'll see, it will do you all the good in the world." Alice had her difficulties, but Lady May's vigorous onset overpowered them, and at length she consented. "Does your uncle come out here to see you?" asks Lady May. "Often; he's very kind," she replies. "And Grace Maubray?" "Oh, yes; I see her pretty often--that is, she has been here twice, I think--quite often enough." "Well, do you know, I never could admire Grace Maubray as I have heard other people do," says Lady May. "There is something harsh and bold, don't you think?--something a little cruel. She is a girl that I don't think could ever be in love." "I don't know that," says Alice. "Oh! really?" says Lady May, "and who is it?" "It is merely a suspicion," says Alice. "Yes--but you think she likes some one--do, like a darling, tell me who it is," urges Lady May, a little uneasily. "You must not tell anyone, because they would say it was sisterly vanity, but I think she likes Dick." "Sir Richard?" says Lady May, with as much indifference as she could. "Yes, I think she likes my brother." Lady May smiles painfully. "I always thought so," she says; "and he admires her, of course?" "No, I don't think he admires her at all. I'm certain he doesn't," said Alice. "Well, certainly he always does speak of her as if she belonged to Vivian Darnley," remarks Lady May, more happily. "So she does, and he to her, I hope," said Alice. "Hope?" repeated Lady May, interrogatively. "Yes--I think nothing could be more suitable." "Perhaps so; you know them better than I do." "Yes, and I still think Uncle David intends them for one another." "I would have asked Mr. Longcluse," Lady May begins, after a little interval, "to use his influence to get us good hearing-places, but he is in such disgrace--is he still, or is there any chance of his being forgiven?"