She had a month's allowance of society dissipation of the most seductive description in that week—music, dancing, tableaux vivants, dressing, shopping, sightseeing, swarms of gay and witty company from noon till midnight, every conceivable kind attention from her cousin, and the most flattering homage from everybody else—all in an easy and cosy way that was very charming and luxurious. It certainly cheered her up a great deal.

We do get cheered, against our intention and desire, against our belief almost, by these little amenities that appeal to our superficial tastes, even when we seem to ourselves to be full of trouble.

It is well for us that we are so susceptible to light impressions, to the subtle influences of the daily commonplace, which are like delicate touches to a crude picture in their effect upon our lives; if we were not, our lives would hardly be worth having sometimes, crippled as they are with great sudden griefs and disappointments, and wasted with the lingering paralysis of spiritual loss and want.

Mrs. Reade, watching the effect of her prescription day by day, thought things were going on very nicely, and took great credit to herself. She could plainly perceive that the disturbing element in the family arrangements was no trifling ball-room fancy; but she had great faith in the girl's youth and gentle character, and in the efficacy of judicious treatment, and it seemed to her that her faith had not been misplaced.

At any rate, she justified her reputation as a clever woman by the tact she displayed in the management of her self-imposed task. No one could have done more, under the circumstances, to further the desired end. She did not have Mr. Kingston about her house too much; she thought Rachel would appreciate him more if she had time to miss him a little. Nor did she force the girl's confidence with respect to Mr. Dalrymple, or even invite it in any way—that is to say, not in any way that was apparent to her.

She took no notice of the obvious indications of her cousin's anxiety to extricate herself from her engagement, though secretly they caused her acute uneasiness. She was a kind little soul, and though quite content with a mariage de convenance herself, did not like to see another woman driven into it against her will.

It was for Rachel's good that she should be tided over those temptations to squander a substantial future for a romantic present, which were peculiarly dangerous to a girl so undisciplined in worldly wisdom as she, and it was absolutely necessary to guard her against the machinations of profligate spendthrifts; but if she could have fallen in with the excellent arrangements that had been made for her, without repugnance and suffering, what great cause for thankfulness there would have been!

So, although she never wavered in her determination to do what she considered her duty, she did it, not only with judgment, but with the utmost gentleness and consideration.

She took Rachel to call on certain shabby and faded women who had made rash marriages with poor or unsteady men, that she might see the consequences of such imprudence in the sordid tastelessness of their dress and their household furniture.

She likewise presented to her notice the charming spectacle of a young bride of fashion, as she "received" on her return from her honeymoon, surrounded by all the refinements of wealth and culture in a perfectly-appointed home.