Miss Marjoribanks

in the drawing-room, Maria with gloves on to hide the honourable stains of her photography, which made her comparatively useless when she was out of her “studio”⁠—and her father walking about in a state of excitement, which was, indeed, what Mr. Cavendish expected. The two exchanged a guilty look when they saw who their visitor was. They looked as people might well look who had been caught in the fact and did not know how to get over it. They came forward, both of them, with a cowardly cordiality and eagerness to welcome him⁠—“How very good of you to come to see us so soon!” Miss Brown said, and fluttered and looked at her father, and could not tell what more to say. And then a dead pause fell upon them⁠—such a pause as not unfrequently falls upon people who have got through their mutual greetings almost with an excess of cordiality. They stopped short all at once, and looked at each other, and smiled, and made a fatal conscious effort to talk of something. “It is so good of you to come so soon,” Miss Brown repeated; “perhaps you have been to see Lucilla,” and then she stopped again, slightly tremulous, and turned an appealing gaze to her papa.

“I have come to see you,” said Mr. Cavendish, plucking up all his courage. “I have been a long time gone, you know, but I have not forgotten Carlingford; and you must forgive me for saying that I was very glad to hear I might still come to see⁠—Miss Brown. As for Lydia?” said the candidate, looking about him with a smile.

“Ah, Lydia,” said her sister, with a sigh⁠—“her eldest is eight, Mr. Cavendish. We don’t see her as often as we should like⁠—marriage makes such a difference. Of course it is quite natural she should be all for her own family now.”

“Quite natural,” said Mr. Cavendish, and then he turned to the Major. “I don’t think there are quite so many public changes as I expected to see. The old Rector always holds out, and the old Colonel; and you have not done much that I can see about the new paving. You know what I have come home about, Major; and I am sure I can count upon you to support me,” the candidate said, with a great deal more confidence than he felt in his voice.

Major Brown cleared his throat; his heart was moved by the familiar voice, and he could not conceal his embarrassment. “I hope nothing will ever occur,” he said, “to make any difference in the friendly feelings⁠—I am sure I shall be very glad to welcome you back permanently to Carlingford. You may always rest assured of that,” and he held out his hand. But he grew red as he thought of his treachery, and Maria, who was quaking over it, did not even try to say a word to help him⁠—and as for Mr. Cavendish, he took up his position on the arm of the sofa, as he used to do. But he had a slim youthful figure when he used to do it, and now the attitude was one which revealed a certain dawning rotundity, very different, as Maria afterwards said, from one’s idea of Mr. Cavendish. He was not aware of it himself, but as these two people looked, their simultaneous thought was how much he had changed.

“Thank you, you are very kind,” said Mr. Cavendish. “I have been a little lazy, I am afraid, since I came here; but I expect my agent down tonight, and then, I hope, you’ll come over to my place and have a talk with Woodburn and Centum and the rest about it. I am a poor tactician, for my part. You shall contrive what is best to be done, and I’ll carry it out. I suppose I may expect almost to walk over,” he said. It was the confidence of despair that moved him. The more he saw that his cause was lost, the more he would make it out that he was sure to win⁠—which is not an unusual state of mind.

“I⁠—I don’t know, I am sure,” said poor Major Brown. “To tell the truth, I⁠—though I can safely say my sympathies are always with you, Cavendish⁠—I⁠—have been so unfortunate as to commit myself, you know. It was quite involuntary, I am sure, for I never thought my casual expression of opinion likely to have any weight⁠—”

“Papa never will perceive the weight that is attached to his opinion,” said Miss Brown.

“I was not thinking of it in the least, Maria,” said the modest Major; “but the fact is, it seems to have been that that decided Ashburton to stand; and after drawing a man in to such a thing, the least one can do is to back him out in it. Nobody had an idea then, you know, that you were coming back, my dear fellow. I assure you, if I had known⁠—”

“But even if you had known, you know you never meant it, papa,” said Maria. And Mr. Cavendish sat on the arm of the sofa, and put his hands deep into his pockets, and dropped his upper lip, and knit his eyebrows a little, and listened to the anxious people excusing themselves. He did not make any answer one way or another. He was terribly mortified and disappointed, and it went against his pride to make further remonstrances. When they had done, he got down off his seat and took his right hand out of his pocket and offered it to Miss Brown, who, putting her own into it, poor soul! with the remembrance of her ancient allegiance, was like to cry.

“Well,” he said, “if that is the case, I suppose I need not bother you any longer. You’ll give me your good wishes all the same. I used to hear of Ashburton sometimes, but I never had the least idea he was so popular. And to tell the truth, I