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STRAIT IS THE GATE 164

dull in colour and ugly in texture, turned the delicate rhythm of her body to clumsiness? ... There was nothing here, I thought blindly, that might not be remedied the very next day, either of her own accord or at my request. I was more unpleasantly affected by the cordiality, by the attentions, which were so foreign to our habits, and in which I was afraid I saw more deliberation than spontaneity, and, though I scarcely dare say so, more politeness than love. That evening, when I went into the drawing room, I was astonished not to find the piano in its usual place; Alissa answered my exclamation of disappointment in her most tranquil voice: “It has gone to be done up, dear.” “But I repeatedly told you, my child ," said my uncle, in a tone of reproach that was almost severe,“ that as it had done well enough up till now, you might have waited until Jerome had gone before sending it away; your haste has deprived us of a great pleasure." “ But, father,” said she, turning aside to blush,“ I assure you it had got so jingly latterly that Jerome himself wouldn't have been able to get anything out of it." “When you played it, it didn't seem so bad,” said my uncle.