Lady Popham had a house in Dublin—a
large old-fashioned substantial mansion, which
was always kept in readiness to receive its
mistress whenever the fancy might seize her to
visit the Irish metropolis. For Lady Popham
prided herself on having emancipated herself
from the shackles of routine in every possible
way, and was wont to declare that she chose to
have the full use and benefit of all her possessions
at any time or season that might seem
good to her. Accordingly, her ladyship arrived
in Dublin about three weeks after the Kilclare
theatrical season had come to an end, and
established herself in Merrion-square for the
winter.

Alfred Trescott was engaged at the Dublin
theatre, with his father, as a member of the
orchestra. Some months ago the Trescotts
had looked upon this engagement as a piece of
great good fortune, but now Alfred treated the
obscure position and humble salary with
contempt. Had he been at all able to venture
upon such a step, he would unhesitatingly have
given up the engagement at once. But the
weekly money was very desirable to enable him
to make what he considered a good figure in
the eyes of Lady Popham and her friends, and
he coolly devoted the whole of his salary to his
own personal expenses. Poor Corda, who
was growing tall and thin, continued to be clad
in the poor shabby frock that she had worn for
half a year, and which was now sadly too scanty
in its proportions. Her little straw bonnet was
burnt to a rusty brown, and her boots were not
always water-tight; but Alfred's clothes were
new and glossy, and well made, and the loving
child contemplated her handsome brother in his
becoming attire with the most perfectly unselfish
delight. Her father, at an early period of Lady
Popham's patronage of Alfred, had been very
desirous that the rich lady's favour should be
extended to Corda. The child herself shrank
timidly from the idea of being forced upon Lady
Popham's notice, but Mr. Trescott, untroubled
by any bashfulness or delicacy on the subject,
would fain have had his favourite child share in
her brother's good fortune. To the first hint
of such a project, however, Alfred had returned
a decisive, almost fierce negative.

"Look here, governor," he had said, in his
coarsest manner, "you'd better stop this game
at once. I'm not going to talk to Lady Popham
about Corda. I'm not going to ruin my
prospects by trying to fasten the whole family upon
the old woman. It'll be much best for Corda
and everybody else, in the long run, to let me
get ahead. Of course, when I achieve a position,
I shall take care of the kid."

So Alfred's visits to Cloncoolin, and
subsequently to Merrion-square, were made alone;
and whenever Lady Popham chanced to speak
to him of his family, she received the impression
that his father and sister were heavy burdens
upon his earnings, and that they somehow cast
a shade upon the brightness of his talents, and
clogged his soaring wings.

Her ladyship was very full of business and
excitement in these days, for she had resolved
to get up a concert for the purpose of
introducing Alfred Trescott, and the drawing-room
of her house in Merrion-square became the
afternoon rendezvous and lounge of several
persons who found it conducive to their interest
or amusement to second Lady Popham's hobby.

Mrs. Dawson and Geraldine O'Brien had
returned to Ireland immediately after the
wedding at Bramley Manor, and were staying in
Dublin for a while. Arthur Skidley and his
friend Walter Charlewood were also frequenters
of the old lady's drawing-room, and she had
pressed them into the service with her usual
enthusiasm.

"You must bring all the young fellows you
know, Arthur—every one of them. And I
rely on your good offices, too, Mr. Charlewood,"
said Lady Popham, à propos of the projected
concert.

Walter bowed and coloured with pleasure,
protesting that he would do the utmost in his
power to make the thing successful.

The two young men had already met Alfred
Trescott in the house of his patroness, and—
thanks chiefly to the cool self-possession and
ready shrewdness of Alfred—the meeting had
taken place without embarrassment.

"I have had the honour of being slightly known
to both these gentlemen in Hammerham, my
lady," said Alfred, bowing, with a nice adjustment
of his manner to a golden mean equally
removed from servility and impertinence. And
then it had been thoroughly understood
amongst them that no further allusion was to
be made to Plumtree's, or any similar scene of
their former meetings.

"Oh, a success!" cried Lady Popham,
gesticulating with both her withered little hands,
after the Italian manner. "A success it must
be. Of that there can be no doubt. But
voyons un peu, who shall we get to manage all
the business part of the concert? If I had but
my dear old Neapolitan Maestro di Capella
here! Sombody suggest something! Mrs.
Dawson, Geraldine, you are both on the
committee; I allow no idle members."

Mrs. Dawson, who had come to spend the
afternoon, was seated in a large luxurious chair
near the window, engaged in embroidering a
cushion with very cold, shiny, uncomfortable-
looking white beads. She shook her head
deprecatingly. "You must excuse me, dear
Lady Popham," she said, with an icy smile; " I
am totally unacquainted with such matters."

Lady Popham shrugged impatiently.

"Oh, I have it, fairy godmother," cried Miss
O'Brien; "there's that nice little man who
used to give me singing-lessons last winter.
What's his name—Bensa!  Bensa, to be sure.
I've no doubt he would undertake to manage it,
and preside at the piano, and everything."

"Brava la mia Geraldina!" said Lady Popham,
jumping up and saluting her goddaughter on
both cheeks. "The very thing. He must be
sent for instantly, and consulted without delay."

Alfred Trescott, who had been sitting silent,
looking over a volume of Spohr's violin duets in
apparent absorption, but losing no syllable of