them with the little ready-tongued peasant boys of Italy. However, he had just found the touch of nature which made the world kin, and had made their eyes light up by telling them of a scene he had beheld in Palestine, illustrating the parable they had been repeating, when the change in the Church bells was a signal for leaving off.
Very happy and full of plans were the two young things, much pleased with the clergyman and his sister, who were no less charmed with the little, bright, brown-faced, lustrous-eyed girl, with her eager yet diffident manner and winning vivacity, and with the slender, delicate, thoughtful lad, whose grave courtesy of demeanour sat so prettily upon him.
Though not to compare in numbers, size, or beauty with the Kencroft flock, the Belforest party ranged well in their seat at Church, for Robert never failed to accompany his mother once a day, as a concession due from son to mother. It was far from satisfying her. Indeed there was a dull, heavy ache at her heart whenever she looked at him, for however he might endeavour to conform, like Marcus Aurelius sacrificing to the gods, there was always a certain half- patronising, half-criticising superciliousness about his countenance. Yet, if he came for love of her, still something might yet strike him and win his heart?
Had her years of levity and indifference been fatal to him? was ever her question to herself as she knelt and prayed for him.
She felt encouraged when, at luncheon, she asked Jock to walk with her to Kenminster for the evening service, after looking in at Kencroft, Robert volunteered to be of the party.
Caroline, however, did not think that he was made quite so welcome at Kencroft as his exertion deserved. Colonel and Mrs. Brownlow were sitting in the drawing-room with the blinds down, presumably indulging in a Sunday nap in the heat of the afternoon, for the Colonel shook himself in haste, and his wife's cap was a little less straight than suited her serene dignity, and though they kissed and welcomed the mother, they were rather short and dry towards Bobus. They said the children had gone out walking, whereupon the two lads said they would try to meet them, and strolled out again.
This left the field free for Caroline to propose the taking the two girls to London with her.
'I am sure,' said Ellen, 'you have always been very kind to the children. But indeed, Caroline, I did not think you would have encouraged it.'
'It?-I don't quite understand,' said Caroline, wondering whether Ellen had suddenly taken an evangelically serious turn.
'There!' said the Colonel, 'I told you she was not aware of it,' and on her imploring cry of inquiry, Ellen answered, 'Of this folly of Robert.'
'Bobus, do you mean,' she cried. 'Oh!' as conviction flashed on her, 'I never thought of _that_.'
'I am sure you did not,' said the Colonel kindly.
'But-but,' she said, bewildered, 'if-if you mean Esther-why did you send her over last night, and let him go out to find her now.'
'She is safe, reading to Mrs. Coffinkey,' said Ellen. 'I did not know Robert was at home, or I should not have let her come without me.'
'Esther is a very dear, sweet-looking girl,' said Caroline. 'If only she were any one else's daughter! Though that does not sound civil! But I know my dear husband had the strongest feeling about first cousins marrying.'
'Yes, I trusted to your knowing that,' said the Colonel. 'And I rely on you not to be weak nor to make the task harder to us. Remembering, too,' he added in a voice of sorrow and pity that made the words sound not unkind, 'that even without the relationship, we should feel that there were strong objections.'
'I know! My poor Bobus!' said Caroline, sadly. 'That makes it such a pity she is his cousin. Otherwise she might do him so much good.'
'I have not much faith in good done in that manner,' said the Colonel.
Caroline thought him mistaken, but could not argue an abstract question, and came to the personal one. 'But how far has it gone? How do you know about it? I see now that I might have detected it in his tone, but one never knows, when one's children grow up.'
'The Colonel was obliged to tell him in the autumn that we did not approve of flirtations between cousins,' said Mrs. Brownlow.
'And he answered-?'
'That flirtation was the last thing he intended,' said the Colonel. 'On which I told him that I would have no nonsense.'
'Was that all?'
'Except that at Christmas he sent her, by way of card, a drawing that must have cost a large sum,' said the Colonel. 'We thought it better to let the child keep it without remark, for fear of putting things into her head; though I wrote and told him such expensive trumpery was folly that I was much tempted to forbid. So what does he do on Valentine's Day but send her a complete set of ornaments like little birds, in Genoa silver-exquisite things. Well, she was very good, dear child. We told her it was not nice or maidenly to take such valuable presents; and she was quite contented and happy when her mother gave her a ring of her own, and we have written to Jessie to send her some pretty things from India.'
'She said she did not care for anything that Ellie did not have too,' added her mother.
'Then you returned them?'
'Yes, and my young gentleman patronisingly replies that he 'appreciates my reluctance, and reserves them for a future time.''
'Just like Bobus!' said Caroline. 'He never gives up his purpose! But how about dear little Esther? Is she really untouched?'
'I hope so,' replied her mother. 'So far it has all been put upon propriety, and so on. I told her, now she was grown up and come home from school she must not run after her cousins as she used to do, and I have called her away sometimes when he has tried to get her alone. Last evening, she told me in a very simple way-like the child she is-that Robert would walk home with her in the moonlight, and hindered her when she tried to join the others, telling me she hoped I should not be angry with her. He seems to have talked to her about this London plan; but I told her on the spot it was impossible.'
'I am afraid it is!' sighed Caroline. 'Dear Essie! I will do my best to keep her peace from being ruffled, for I know you are quite right; but I can't help being sorry for my boy, and he is so determined that I don't think he will give up easily.'
'You may let him understand that nothing will ever make me consent,' returned the Colonel.
'I will, if he enters on it with me,' said Caroline; 'but I think it is advisable as long as possible to prevent it from taking a definite shape.'
Caroline was much better able now to hold her own with her brother and sister-in-law. Not only did her position and the obligations they were under give her weight, but her character had consolidated itself in these years, and she had much more force, and appearance of good sense. Besides, John was a weight in the family now, and his feeling for his aunt was not without effect. They talked of his prospects and of Jessie's marriage, over their early tea. The elders of the walking party came in with hands full of flowers, namely, the two Johns and Eleanor, but ominously enough, Bobus was not there. He had been lost sight of soon after they had met.
Yes, and at that moment he was loitering at a safe distance from the door of the now invalid and half-blind Mrs. Coffinkey, to whom the Brownlow girls read by turns. She lived conveniently up a lane not much frequented. This was the colloquy which ensued when the tall, well-proportioned maiden, with her fresh, modest, happy face, tripped down the steps:-
'So the Coffinkey is unlocked at last! Stern Proserpine relented!'
'Robert! You here?'
'You never used to call me Robert.'
'Mamma says it is time to leave off the other.'
'Perhaps she would like you to call me Mr. Robert Otway Brownlow.'
'Don't talk of mamma in that way.'
'I would do anything my queen tells me except command my tones when there is an attempt to stiffen her. She is not to be made into buckram.'
'Please, Robert,' as some one met and looked at them, 'let me walk on by myself.'
'What? Shall I be the means of getting you into trouble?'
