LITMIR.BIZ

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placed the book on the ottoman, and would thus have secured a sort of tête-à-tête; but Eleonora did not choose to leave Mrs Miles Charnock out, and handed her each photograph in turn, but could only elicit a cold languid “Thank you.”  To Anne’s untrained eye these triumphs of architecture were only so many dull representations of ‘Roman Catholic churches,’ and she would much rather have listened to the charitable plans of the other two ladies, for the houseless factory women of Wil’sbro’.

      The bazaar, Lady Tyrrell said, must be first started by the Member’s wife; and there should be an innermost committee, of not more than three, to dispose of stalls and make arrangements.

      “You must be one,” said Cecil.  “I know no one yet.”

      “You will, long before it comes off.  In fact, I am as great a stranger as yourself.  Ah! there’s an opportunity!” as the bell pealed.  “The Bowaters, very likely; I saw their Noah’s ark as I passed the Poynsett Arms, with the horses taken out.  I wonder how many are coming—worthy folks!”

      Which evidently meant insufferable bores.

      “Is there not a daughter?” asked Cecil.

      “You need not use the singular, though, by the bye, most of them are married.”

      “Oh, pray stay!” entreated Cecil, as there were signs of leave-taking.

      “I should do you no good.  You’ll soon learn that I am a sort of Loki among the Asagötter.”

      Cecil laughed, but had time to resume her somewhat prim dignity before the lengthened disembarkation was over, and after all, produced only four persons; but then none were small—Mrs. Bowater was a harsh matron, Mr. Bowater a big comely squire, the daughters both tall, one with an honest open face much like Herbert’s, only with rather less youth and more intelligence, the other a bright dark glowing gipsy-faced young girl.

      Eleonora Vivian, hitherto gravely stiff and reserved, to poor Frank’s evident chagrin, at once flashed into animation, and met the elder Miss Bowater with outstretched hands, receiving a warm kiss.  At the same time Mr. Bowater despatched Frank to see whether his mother could admit a visitor; and Lady Tyrrell observed, “Ah!  I was about to make the same petition; but I will cede to older friends, for so I suppose I must call you, Mr. Bowater—though my acquaintance is of long standing enough!”

      And she put on a most charming smile, which Mr. Bowater received with something inarticulate that might be regarded as a polite form of ‘fudge,’ which made Cecil think him a horribly rude old man, and evidently discomposed his wife very much.

      Frank brought back his mother’s welcome to the Squire; but by this time Eleonora and Miss Bowater had drawn together into a window, in so close and earnest a conversation that he could not break into it, and with almost visible reluctance began to talk to the younger sister, who on her side was desirous of joining in the bazaar discussion, which had been started again in full force; until there was a fresh influx of visitors, when Lady Tyrrell decidedly took leave with her sister, and Frank escorted them to their carriage, and returned no more.

      In the new shuffling of partners, the elder Miss Bowater found herself close to Anne, and at once inquired warmly for Miles, with knowledge and interest in naval affairs derived from a sailor brother, Miles’s chief friend and messmate in his training and earlier voyages.  There was something in Joanna Bowater’s manner that always unlocked hearts, and Anne was soon speaking without her fence of repellant stiffness and reserve.  Certainly Miles was loved by his mother and brothers more than he could be by an old playfellow and sisterly friend, and yet there was something in Joanna’s tone that gave Anne a sense of fellow-feeling, as if she had met a countrywoman in this land of strangers; and she even told how Miles had thought it right to send her home, thinking that she might be a comfort to his mother.  “And not knowing all that was going to happen!” said poor Anne, with an irrepressible sigh, both for her own blighted hopes, and for the whirl into which her sore heart had fallen.

      “I think you will be,” said Joanna, brightly; “though it must be strange coming on so many.  Dear Mrs. Poynsett is so kind!”

      “Yes,” said Anne, coldly.

      “Ah! you don’t know her yet.  And Lady Rosamond!  She is delightful!”

      “Have you seen her!”

      “We met them just now in the village, but my brother is enchanted.  And do you know what was Julius’s first introduction to her?  It was at a great school-feast, where they had the regimental children as well as the town ones.  A poor little boy went off in an epileptic fit, and Julius found her holding him, with her own hand in his mouth to hinder the locking of the teeth.  He said her fingers were bitten almost to the bone, but she made quite light of it.”

      “That was nice!” said Anne; but then, with a startled glance, and in an undertone, she added, “Are they Christians?”

      Joanna Bowater paused for a moment between dismay and desire for consideration, and in that moment her father called to her, “Jenny, do you remember the dimensions of those cottages in Queckett’s Lane?” and she had to come and serve for his memory, while he was indoctrinating a younger squire with the duties of a landlord.

      Meanwhile Mrs. Bowater was, for the tenth time, consulting her old friend upon Mrs. Hornblower’s capabilities of taking care of Herbert, and betraying a little disappointment that his first sermon had not yet been heard; and when his voice was complimented, she hoped Julius would spare it—too much exertion could not be good for so young a man, and though dear Herbert looked so strong, no one would believe how much sleep he required.  Then she observed, “We found Camilla Vivian—Lady Tyrrell I mean—calling.  Have you seen her?”

      “No.”

      “Well, she really seems improved!”

      “Mr. Bowater has been telling me she is handsomer than ever!”

      “Oh yes!  That’s all gentlemen think of; but I meant in other ways.  She seems full of the rebuilding of St. Nicholas, and to be making great friends with your new daughter.  You don’t think,” lowering her voice, “that Raymond would have any objection to meeting her?”

      “Certainly not!”

      “I did not suppose he would, but I thought I would just ask you.  It would be rather marked not to invite him for the 3rd, you know; and Jenny was always so fond of poor Emily, kept up a correspondence with her to the last.  It was the first time she had met the little one since they came back.  Not that she is little now, she is very tall and quite handsome even by the side of Edith.  We just saw Lady Rosamond—a sweet face—and Herbert perfectly raves about her!”

      “She is a most unselfish warm-hearted creature!” said Mrs. Poynsett.

      “I am so glad!  And Miles’s wife, I hope she will come.  Poor thing, she looks very poorly.”

      “Yes, I am very anxious about her.  If she is not better in a day or two, I shall insist on her having advice.”

      “Poor dear, I don’t wonder!  But she had better come to Strawyers; Jenny will cheer her if any one can, and we shall have a nice lively party, I hope!  She will only mope the more if she never goes out.”

      “I am afraid she is hardly equal to it; besides, poor child,” added Mrs. Poynsett, “she seems to have been strictly brought up, and to think our ways rather shocking; and Miles wrote to me not to press her to go into society till he comes home.”

      “Ah! well, I call that a mistake!” puffed out good-humoured Mrs. Bowater.  “Very bad for the poor girl’s spirits.  By the bye, I hope Julius does not object to Herbert’s dancing—not at a public ball, you know, but at home—for if he did, I would try to arrange something else, it would be so hard for the poor boy to have to look on.”

      “I don’t know, I don’t think he could,” said the mother, considering.

      “You see, we thought of a dinner-party for as many as possible.  Frank and Charlie won’t mind dining in the schoolroom, I know, and having the rest for a dance in the

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