that ever tortured mortal ears. It was all on her account. They
were, however, away from every one who had known her former position;
and also under less observation from without than they would have had
to put up with in any country parish.

Sophy the woman was as charming a partner as a man could possess,
though Sophy the lady had her deficiencies. She showed a natural
aptitude for little domestic refinements, so far as related to things
and manners; but in what is called culture she was less intuitive.
She had now been married more than fourteen years, and her husband
had taken much trouble with her education; but she still held
confused ideas on the use of 'was' and 'were,' which did not beget a
respect for her among the few acquaintances she made. Her great
grief in this relation was that her only child, on whose education no
expense had been and would be spared, was now old enough to perceive
these deficiencies in his mother, and not only to see them but to
feel irritated at their existence.

Thus she lived on in the city, and wasted hours in braiding her
beautiful hair, till her once apple cheeks waned to pink of the very
faintest. Her foot had never regained its natural strength after the
accident, and she was mostly obliged to avoid walking altogether.
Her husband had grown to like London for its freedom and its domestic
privacy; but he was twenty years his Sophy's senior, and had latterly
been seized with a serious illness. On this day, however, he had
seemed to be well enough to justify her accompanying her son Randolph
to the concert.