who had always done most for her.

I thought my young lady looked rich--I scarcely knew why; and I
hoped she had put her hand in her pocket. I soon made her out,
however, not at all a fine fanatic--she was but a generous,
irresponsible enquirer. She had come to England to see her aunt,
and it was at her aunt's she had met the dreary lady we had all so
much on our mind. I saw she'd help to pass the time when she
observed that it was a pity this lady wasn't intrinsically more
interesting. That was refreshing, for it was an article of faith
in Mrs. Saltram's circle--at least among those who scorned to know
her horrid husband--that she was attractive on her merits. She was
in truth a most ordinary person, as Saltram himself would have been
if he hadn't been a prodigy. The question of vulgarity had no
application to him, but it was a measure his wife kept challenging
you to apply. I hasten to add that the consequences of your doing
so were no sufficient reason for his having left her to starve.
"He doesn't seem to have much force of character," said my young
lady; at which I laughed out so loud that my departing friends
looked back at me over their shoulders as if I were making a joke
of their discomfiture. My joke probably cost Saltram a
subscription or two, but it helped me on with my interlocutress.
"She says he drinks like a fish," she sociably continued, "and yet
she allows that his mind's wonderfully clear." It was amusing to
converse with a pretty girl who could talk of the clearness of
Saltram's mind. I expected next to hear she had been assured he
was awfully clever. I tried to tell her--I had it almost on my
conscience--what was the proper way to regard him; an effort
attended perhaps more than ever on this occasion with the usual
effect of my feeling that I wasn't after all very sure of it. She