“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” returned Hester. “We’ll think no more of it.”

Loud applause followed, and Jones sat down, well satisfied.

The order of the evening was resumed, but once the harmony of the assembly was disturbed, all hope of quiet was gone. They now had something to talk about!

Hester sang again, but no song seemed quite right. Vavasor also sang several times—as often as Hester asked him. But inwardly he was disgusted by the whole affair—as was natural, for could any fish have found itself more out of the water than he? Everything annoyed him—most of all that the lady of his thoughts should have addressed herself to such an assembly. If it was not degrading enough to appear before such a throng, surely to sing to them was! How could a woman of refinement seek appreciation for her songs from such a repulsive assemblage!

One main test of our dealings in the world is whether the men and women we associate with are better or worse for it. Vavasor had often been where at least he was the worse and no one the better for his presence. For days a cloud hung over the fair image of Hester in his mind.

He called on the first possible opportunity to inquire how she was after her exertions, but avoided any further allusion to the events of the evening. She thanked him for the help he had given her, but was so far from satisfied with her experiment that she too let the subject rest.

Mr. Raymount was so disgusted that he said nothing of the kind should ever again take place in his house. He had not bought it to make a music hall out of it!

If any change was about to appear in Vavasor, a change in the fortunes of the Raymounts prevented it.

What people call luck seems to have odd predilections and prejudices regarding families as well as individuals. Some seem invariably successful, whatever they take in hand. Others go on, generation after generation, struggling without a ray of success. On the surface there appears no reason for inequality. But there is one thing in which preeminently I do not believe—that same luck, namely, or chance, or fortune.

The Father of families looks after his families—and his children too.

—Twelve —

Sudden Change

Light and shade, sunshine and shadow pursue each other over the moral as well as the material world. Every soul has a landscape that changes with the wind that sweeps its sky, with the clouds that return after its rain.

The middle day of March had been dreary all over England—dreariest of all, perhaps, in London. Great blasts had blown under a sky whose miles-thick vault of clouds they never touched, but instead hunted and drove and dashed earth clouds of dust into all unwelcoming places, throats and eyes included. Now and then a few drops would fall on the stones as if the day’s fierce misery were about to yield to sadness. But it did not so yield. Up rose again a great blundering gust, and repentance was lost in rage. The sun went down on its wrath, and its night was tempestuous.