"When my children were young, and their papa always being noted for so active a man among his people, I don't know what I should have done if I had been easily frightened," said Mrs. Tufton. "Don't worry--keep her quiet, and give her----" "Mrs. Vincent never said she was afraid of infection," said Adelaide. "Is it typhus fever? My mother jumps at everything, and never stops to inquire. I daresay it's something quite different. Love affairs? Oh no; of course we don't want you to tell us. I don't think Phoebe Tozer will die of her failure. This young man from Homerton will console her. Has your son recovered his little affair with the young Dowager, Mrs. Vincent? He dined there, you know. I daresay his head was turned; but there is one safeguard with those fine ladies. If a man has his wits about him, he can always know that they mean nothing all the time." "Indeed, I don't know what you mean. My son knows Lady Western, I believe; I remember one time he dined there. My Arthur," said the mother, with a faint smile, "is not one to have his head turned. He has been used to be thought a great deal of at home." "Ah, he's a precious young man!" said Mr. Tufton, see-sawing the air with his large grey hand. "I am much interested in my dear young brother. He thinks too much, perhaps--too much--of pleasing the carnal mind; and my people, that have been used to practical preaching so long, find the difference. But when he has deeper experiences----" "Stuff!" said the invalid, turning her head half aside; "you know the chapel has filled since he came. Even when they are asses like your Salem people, you know they like a man with brains. I don't see that it matters much what Mr. Vincent goes wrong in; he was sure to go wrong somehow. I gave him six months, but he has got through the six months, and they have not killed him off yet. What does he mean, thrusting himself into other people's messes? As far as I can make out, it's quite a little tragedy. There was that Mrs. Hilyard, you know--the woman in Back Grove Street. Ah, you know her!" said Adelaide, keenly, seeing the little shiver with which the visitor received the name. "I have heard my son speak of her," said the widow, faintly. "She was some connection of the Bedford family," said Adelaide, going on, with her curious eyes fixed on Mrs. Vincent's face, who quailed before her, "and she married a half brother of Lady Western's--a desperate rascal he was. They had one baby, and then she left him--one baby, a girl, that has grown up an idiot; and here this lady lives--a poor needle-woman--to keep the girl safe, somehow, out of her father's hand. Why he should want to have her I can't exactly tell. I suspect, because she's pretty, to make a decoy of her, and sell her somehow, either to be married, or worse----" "Adelaide!" cried Mrs. Tufton; "oh, my dear, do mind what you're saying; Mrs. Vincent does not know you. What can she think if you talk like that?"