As for Mrs. Centum, she was quite incapable of managing such a terrible crisis. She felt it, indeed, a little hard that it should be her man who was defied in this alarming way, while Mr. Cavendish and the Archdeacon, the two previous candidates, had both been received so sweetly. To be sure, it was his own fault; but that did not mend matters. She looked from one to the other with a scared look, and grew very red, and untied her bonnet; and then, as none of these evidences of agitation had any effect upon the other parties involved, plunged into the heat of the conflict without considering what she was about to say.
“Lucilla, I am surprised at you,” said Mrs. Centum, “when you know how you have gone on about Mr. Cavendish—when you know what a fuss you have made, and how you have told everybody—”
“By the by, who is Mr. Cavendish?” said General Travers, interposing, with that holy horror of a quarrel between women which is common to the inferior half of creation. “I wonder if he is a fellow one used to meet everywhere. One never could get any satisfaction who he belonged to. He never pretended to be one of the Devonshire Cavendishes, you know. I don’t know if he had any family at all, or relations, or that sort of thing. In most cases a man gets on just as well without them, in my opinion. I wonder if this fellow you are talking of is he?”
“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Centum. “I hope you will meet him before you leave Carlingford. He has a sister married here; but we have always understood he was one of the Cavendishes. I am sure Mrs. Woodburn always gives herself out for somebody,” she continued, beginning to let the interesting suspicion enter her mind; for, to be sure, they were about of a standing, and the banker’s wife had sometimes felt a little sore at the idea that her neighbour possessed distinctions of family which were denied to herself. “It is true, none of her relations ever come to see her,” said Mrs. Centum, and she began to forget the General, and Lucilla’s reception of him, in this still more interesting subject. It was the first time that the authenticity of the Cavendishes had been attacked in Carlingford; and, to be sure, what is the good of having fine connections if they cannot be produced? While Mrs. Centum pondered a suggestion so interesting, Lucilla, on her part, also took advantage of the occasion, and descended from the calm heights of dignity on which she had placed herself. And the General, who was a well-bred man, had got over for the moment the unlucky impression made upon him by the fresh face of little Rose Lake.
“Mr. Cavendish is very nice,” said Miss Marjoribanks. “I am very fond of all my own relations, but I don’t care about other people’s. Of course he is one of the Cavendishes. I don’t see how he can help it, when that is his name. I should think it was sure to be the same. We should be so obliged to you if you would bring him back to Carlingford. I don’t know, I am sure, why he is so obstinate in staying away.”
“Perhaps somebody has been unkind to him,” said the General, feeling it was expected of him.
“I am sure I have not been unkind to him,” said Lucilla. “He is such a loss to me. If you are going to do us the pleasure of coming on Thursday—Oh, I am sure we shall feel quite honoured, both papa and I—I will show you how badly off I am. It is not a party in the least, and we don’t dance,” said Miss Marjoribanks, “that is why I am a little uncertain about the officers. It is one of my principles that too many young people are the ruin of society; but it is hard work, sometimes, when one is not properly supported,” Lucilla added, with a gentle sigh.
“If I can be of any use,” said the amused soldier. “I don’t pretend to be able to replace Cavendish, if it is Cavendish; but—”
“No,” said Miss Marjoribanks, with resignation, “it is not easy to replace him. He has quite a talent, you know; but I am sure it is very kind of you, and we shall be delighted to have such an acquisition,” Lucilla continued, after a pause, with a gracious smile; and then she led her guests downstairs to luncheon, which was every way satisfactory. As for the General, it cannot be doubted that he had the worst of it in this little encounter, and felt himself by no means such a great personage in Carlingford as his hospitable entertainers had persuaded him he should be. Mrs. Centum declared afterwards that she could not form the least idea what Lucilla meant by it, she who was generally so civil to everybody. But it is not necessary to say that Miss Marjoribanks knew perfectly well what she was doing, and felt it imperatively necessary to bring down General Travers to his proper level. Carlingford could exist perfectly well without him and his officers; but Lucilla did not mean that the society she had taken so much pains to form should be condescended to by a mere soldier. And then, after all, she was only human, and it was not to be expected she could pass over the blank look with which her visitor turned to herself, after having by evil fortune cast his eyes upon Rose Lake. At the same time, Miss Marjoribanks, always magnanimous, did not blame Rose, who had no hand whatever in the
