“You have a very high opinion of him, I suppose?”

“He is very dear to me.  We were something more than friends in the ordinary acceptation of the word.  Do you remember the story of those two noble young Venetians who inscribed upon their shield Fraires, non amici? Saltram and I have been brothers rather than friends.”

“And you think him a good man?” Adela asked anxiously.

“Most decidedly; I have reason to think so.  I believe him to be a noble-hearted and honourable man; a little neglectful or disdainful of conventionalities, wearing his faith in God and his more sacred feelings anywhere than upon his sleeve; but a man who cannot fail to come right in the long-run.”

“I am so glad to hear you say that.  I have known Mr. Saltram some time, as you may have heard and like him very much.  But my cousin Mrs. Pallinson has quite an aversion to him, and speaks against him with such a positive air at times, that I have been almost inclined to think she must be right.  I am very inexperienced in the ways of the world, and am naturally disposed to lean a little upon the opinions of others.”

“But don’t you think there may be a reason for Mrs. Pallinson’s dislike of my friend?”

Adela Branston blushed at this question, and then laughed a little.

“I think I know what you mean,” she said.  “Yes, it is just possible that Mrs. Pallinson may be jealously disposed towards any acquaintance of mine, on account of that paragon of perfection, her son Theobald.  I have not been so blind as not to see her views in that quarter.  But be assured, Mr. Fenton, that whatever may happen to me, I shall never become Mrs. Theobald Pallinson.”

“I hope not.  I am quite ready to acknowledge Mr. Pallinson’s merits and accomplishments, but I do not think him worthy of you.”

“It is rather awful, isn’t it, for me to speak of marriage at all within a few months of my husband’s death?  But when a woman has money, people will not allow her to forget that she is a widow for ever so short a time.  But it is quite a question if I shall ever marry again.  I have very little doubt that real happiness is most likely to be found in a wise avoidance of all the perils and perplexities of that foolish passion which we read of in novels, if one could only be wise; don’t you think so, Mr. Fenton?”

“My own experience inclines me to agree with you, Mrs. Branston,” Gilbert answered, smiling at the little woman’s naivete.

“Your own experience has been unfortunate, then?  I wish I were worthy of your confidence.  Mr. Saltram told me some time ago that you were engaged to a very charming young lady.”

“The young lady in question has jilted me.”

“Indeed!  And you are very angry with her, of course?”

“I loved her too well to be angry with her.  I reserve my indignation for the scoundrel who stole her from me.”

“It is very generous of you to make excuses for the lady,” Mrs. Branston said; and would fain have talked longer of this subject, but Gilbert concluded his visit at this juncture, not caring to discuss his troubles with the sympathetic widow.