"Yes, I thought you would be surprised,"_Miss Marjoribanks

he took his first glass of claret with a slow relish and enjoyment,

which roused every sentiment of self-respect and spark of temper

existing in his daughter's mind. "If you had kept your own place it

would not have mattered; but I don't see how you are to get out of it.

You see young ladies should let these sort of things alone, Lucilla."

This was all the feeling he showed for her in her unexpected dilemma.

Miss Marjoribanks's heart gave one throb, which made the green and

violet ribbons jump and thrill; and then she came to herself, and

recognised, as she had so often done before, that she had to fight her

way by herself, and had nobody to look to. Such a thought is dreary

enough sometimes, and there are minds that sink under it; but at other

times it is like the touch of the mother earth which gave the giant back

its strength; and Lucilla was of the latter class of intelligence. When

she saw the triumph with which her embarrassment was received and that

she had no sympathy nor aid to look for, she recovered herself as if by

magic. Let what would come in the way, nothing could alter her certainty

that Mr Ashburton was the man for Carlingford; and that determination

not to be beaten, which is the soul of British valour, sprang up in an

instant in Miss Marjoribanks's mind. There was not even the alternative

of victory or Westminster Abbey for Lucilla. If she was ever to hold up

her head again, or have any real respect for herself, she must win. All

this passed through her head in the one bewildering moment, while her

father's words were still making her ears tingle, and _that name_,

printed in big inky letters, seemed to flutter in all the air round her.

It was hard to believe the intelligence thus conveyed, and harder still

to go on in the face of old friendships and the traditions of her youth;

but still duty was dearer than tradition, and it was now a necessity to

fight the battle to the last, and at all risks to win.

"Thank you all the same, papa, for bringing me the paper," said Lucilla.

"It would have been a great deal worse if I had not known of it before I

saw him. I am sure I am very glad for one thing. He can't be married or

dead, as people used to say. I am quite ashamed to keep you so long

downstairs, Aunt Jemima, when I know you must be longing for a cup of

tea--but it is somebody come back whom nobody expected. Tell him I shall

be _so_ glad to see him, papa; though I have no reason to be glad, for

he was one of my _young_ friends, you know, and he is sure to think I

have gone off." As she spoke, Lucilla turned Aunt Jemima, to whom she

had given her arm, quite round, that she might look into the great glass

over the mantelpiece: "I don't think I _am_ quite so much gone off as I

expected to be," said Miss Marjoribanks, with candid impartiality;

"though of course he will think me stouter--but it does not make any

difference about Mr Ashburton being the right man for Carlingford." She

said the words with a certain solemnity, and turned Mrs John, who was so

much surprised as to be speechless, round again, and led her upstairs.

It was as if they were walking in a procession of those martyrs and

renouncers of self, who build up the foundations of society; and it

would not be too much to say that under her present circumstances, and

in the excitement of this singular and unexpected event, such was the

painful but sublime consciousness which animated Lucilla's breast.

As for Dr Marjoribanks, his triumph was taken out of him by that

spectacle. He closed the door after the ladies had gone, and came back

to his easy-chair by the side of the fire, and could not but feel that

he had had the worst of it. It was actually Mr Cavendish who had come

home, and whose address to the electors of Carlingford, dated from Dover

on his return to England, the Doctor had just put into his daughter's

hand. But wonderful and unlooked-for as was the event, Lucilla, though

taken unawares, had not given in, nor shown any signs of weakness. And

the effect upon her father of her last utterance and confession was such

that he took up the paper again and read both addresses, which were

printed side by side. In other days Mr Cavendish had been the chosen

candidate of Grange Lane; and the views which he expressed (and he

expressed his views very freely) were precisely those of Dr

Marjoribanks. Yet when the Doctor turned to Mr Ashburton's expression of

his conviction that he was the right man for Carlingford, it cannot be

denied that the force of that simple statement had a wonderful effect

upon his mind--an effect all the greater, perhaps, in comparison with

the political exposition made by the other unexpected candidate. The

Doctor's meditations possibly took a slumbrous tone from the place and

the moment at which he pursued them; for the fact was that the words he

had just been hearing ran in his head all through the reading of the two

addresses. Mr Cavendish would think Lucilla had gone off; but yet she

had not gone off so much as might have been expected, and Mr Ashburton

was the man for Carlingford. Dr Marjoribanks laughed quietly by himself

in his easy-chair, and then went back to Mr Cavendish's opinions; and

ended again, without knowing it, in a kind of odd incipient agreement

with Lucilla. The new candidate was right in politics; but, after all,

Mr Ashburton was a more satisfactory sort of person. He was a man whom

people knew everything about, and a descendant of old Penrhyn, and had

the Firs, and lived in it, and spent about so much money every year

honestly in the face of the world. When a man conducts himself in this

way, his neighbours can afford to be less exacting as to his political

opinions. This comparison went on in the Doctor's thoughts until the

distinction between the two grew confused and faint in that ruddy and

genial glow of firelight and lamplight and personal well-being which is

apt to engross a man's mind after he has come in out of the air, as

people say, and has eaten a good dinner, and feels himself comfortable;

and at last all that remained in Dr Marjoribanks's mind was that Mr

Cavendish would think Lucilla had gone off, though she had not gone off

nearly so much as might have been expected; at which he laughed with an

odd sound, which roused him, and might have induced some people to think

he had been sleeping--if, indeed, anybody had been near to hear.

But this news was naturally much more serious to Miss Marjoribanks when

she got upstairs, and had time to think of it. She would not have been

human if she had heard without emotion of the return of the man whom she

had once dreamed of as member for Carlingford, with the addition of

other dreams which had not been altogether without their sweetness. He

had returned now and then for a few days, but Lucilla knew that he had

never held up his head in Grange Lane since the day when she advised him

to marry Barbara Lake. And now when he had bethought himself of his old

ambition, had he possibly bethought himself of other hopes as well? And

the horrible thing was, that she had pledged herself to another, and put

her seal upon it that Mr Ashburton was the man for Carlingford! It may

be supposed that, with such a complication in her mind, Miss

Marjoribanks was very little capable of supporting Aunt Jemima's

questions as to what it was about, and who was Mr Cavendish, and why was

his return of consequence to Lucilla? Mrs John was considerably alarmed

and startled, and began to think in earnest that Tom was fond of his

cousin, and would never forgive his mother for letting Lucilla perhaps

marry some one else, and settle down before her very eyes.

"If it is a very particular friend, I can understand it," Mrs John said,

with a little asperity; but that was after she had made a great many

attempts, which were only partially successful, to find it all out.

"Dear Aunt Jemima," said Lucilla, "we are all particular friends in

Carlingford--society is so limited, you know;--and Mr Cavendish has been

a very long time away. He used to be of such use to me, and I am so fond

of him," Miss Marjoribanks said, with a sigh; and it may be supposed

that Mrs John's curiosity was not lessened by such a response.

"If you are engaged to any one, Lucilla, I must say I think I ought to

have been told," said Tom's mother, with natural indignation. "Though I

ought not to blame _you_ for it, perhaps. It is a sad thing when a girl

is deprived of a mother's care; but still I am your nearest

relation----"

"My dear aunt, it is something about the election," said Miss

Marjoribanks. "How could I be engaged to a man who has been away ten

years?"

"Tom has been away ten years," said Mrs John impetuously; and then she

blushed, though she was past the age of blushing, and made haste to

cover her imprudence. "I don't see what you can have to do with the

election," she said, with suspicion, but some justice; "and I don't

feel, Lucilla, as if you were telling me all."

"I have the favours to make, Aunt Jemima," said Lucilla--"green and

violet. You used to be so clever at making bows, and I hope you will

help me;--papa, you know, will have to be on Mr Ashburton's committee,"

Miss Marjoribanks added; and then, in spite of herself, a sigh of doubt

and anxiety escaped her bosom. It was easy to say that "papa would be on

Mr Ashburton's committee, you know," but nobody had known that Mr

Cavendish was coming to drive everything topsy-turvy; and Lucilla,

though she professed to know only who was the man for Carlingford, had

at the same time sufficient political information to be aware that the

sentiments propounded in Mr Cavendish's address were also Dr

Marjoribanks's sentiments; and she did not know the tricks which some

green-and-violet spirit in the dining-room was playing with the Doctor's

fancy. Perhaps it might turn out to be Mr Cavendish's committee which

her father would be on; and after she had pledged herself that the other

man was the man for Carlingford! Lucilla felt that she could not be

disloyal and go back from her word, neither could she forget the

intimation which had so plainly indicated to her that Mr Ashburton was

the man; and yet, at the same time, she could not but sigh as she

thought of Mr Cavendish. Perhaps he had grown coarse, as men do at that

age, just as Lucilla herself was conscious that he would find her

stouter. Perhaps he had ceased to flirt, or be of any particular use of

an evening; possibly even he might have forgotten Miss Marjoribanks--but

naturally that was a thing that seemed unlikely to Lucilla. And oh! if

he had but come a little earlier, or for ever stayed away!

But while all these thoughts were going through her mind, her fingers

were still busy with the violet-and-green cockades which Aunt Jemima,

after making sure that Mr Ashburton was not a Radical, had begun to help

her with. And they sat and talked about Mrs John's breathing, which was

so bad, and about her headaches, while Lucilla by snatches discussed the

situation in her mind. Perhaps, on the whole, embarrassment and

perplexity are a kind of natural accompaniment to life and movement; and

it is better to be driven out of your senses with thinking which of two

things you ought to do than to do nothing whatever, and be utterly

uninteresting to all the world. This at least was how Lucilla reasoned

to herself in her dilemma; and while she reasoned she used up yard upon

yard of her green ribbon (for naturally the violet bore but a small

proportion to the green). Whatever she might have to do or to

suffer--however her thoughts might be disturbed or her heart

distracted--it is unnecessary to add that it was impossible to Lucilla

either to betray or to yield.

_Chapter XXXIX_

It was a very good thing for Lucilla that Mrs John was so much of an

invalid, notwithstanding that the Doctor made little of her complaints.

All that Dr Marjoribanks said was--with that remnant of Scotch which was

often perceptible in his speech--that her illnesses were a fine thing to

occupy her, and he did not know what she would do without them--a manner

of speaking which naturally lessened his daughter's anxiety, though her

sympathetic care and solicitude were undiminished. And no doubt, when

she had been once assured that there was nothing dangerous in her aunt's

case, it was a relief to Miss Marjoribanks at the present juncture that

Mrs John got up late and always breakfasted in her own room. Lucilla

went into that sanctuary after she had given her father his breakfast,

and heard all about the palpitation and the bad night Aunt Jemima had

passed; and then when she had consoled her suffering relative by the

reflection that one never sleeps well the first night or two, Miss

Marjoribanks was at liberty to go forth and attend a little to her own

affairs, which stood so much in need of being attended to. She had had

no further talk with the Doctor on the subject, but she had read over Mr

Cavendish's address, and could not help seeing that it went dead against

her candidate; neither could Lucilla remain altogether unaffected by the

expression of feeling in respect to "a place in which I have spent so

many pleasant years, and which has so many claims on my affections," and

the touching haste with which the exile had rushed back as soon as he

heard of the old member's death. If it touched Miss Marjoribanks, who

was already pledged to support another interest, what might it not do to

the gentlemen in Grange Lane who were not pledged, and who had a

friendship for Mr Cavendish? This was the alarming thought that had

disturbed her sleep all night, and returned to her mind with her first

awakening; and when she had really her time to herself, and the fresh

morning hours before her, Lucilla began, as everybody ought to do, by

going to the very root and foundation, and asking herself what, beyond

all secondary considerations, it was _right_ to do. To change from one

side to the other and go back from her word was a thing abhorrent to

her; but still Miss Marjoribanks was aware that there are certain

circumstances in which honesty and truth themselves demand what in most

cases is considered an untruthful and dishonest proceeding.

Thus in order to come to a right decision, and with a sense of the duty

she owed to her country which would have shamed half the electors in

England, not to say Carlingford, Lucilla, who naturally had no vote,

read the two addresses of the two candidates, and addressed herself

candidly and impartially to the rights of the subject. Mr Cavendish was

disposed, as we have said, to be pathetic and sentimental, and to speak

of the claims the borough had upon his affections, and the eagerness

with which he had rushed home at the earliest possible moment to present

himself to them. If poor old Mr Chiltern had been King Bomba, or a

gloomy Oriental tyrant, keeping all possible reformers and successors

banished from his dominions, the new candidate could not have spoken

with more pathos. It was a sort of thing which tells among the

imaginative part of the community, or so, at least, most people think;

and Miss Marjoribanks was moved by it for the first moment; but then her

enlightened mind asserted its rights. She said to herself that Mr

Cavendish might have come home at any hour, by any steamboat; that

Calais and Boulogne, and even Dieppe, were as open to him as if he had

been an actual refugee, and that consequently there was nothing

particular to be pathetic about. And then, if the town had such claims

on his affections, why had he stayed so long away? These two

rationalistic questions dispersed the first _attendrissement_ which had

begun to steal over Lucilla's mind. When she came to this conclusion,

her difficulties cleared away. She had no reason to go back from her

engagements and reject that intimation which had so impressed it on her,

that Mr Ashburton was the man. It was a sacrifice which ancient truth

and friendship did not demand, for verity was not in the document she

had just been reading, and that appeal to sentiment was nothing more

than what is generally called humbug. "He might have been living here

all the time," Lucilla said to herself; "he might have had much stronger

claims upon our affections; if he had wanted, he might have come back

ages ago, and not let people struggle on alone." When this view of the

subject occurred to her, Lucilla felt more indignation than sympathy.

And then, as Dr Marjoribanks had done, she turned to the calm utterance

of her own candidate--the man who was the only man for Carlingford--and

that sweet sense of having given sound counsel, and of having at last

met with some one capable of carrying it out, which makes up for so many

failures, came like balm to Lucilla's bosom. There was nothing more

necessary; the commotion in her mind calmed down, and the tranquillity

of undisturbed conviction came in its place. And it was with this sense

of certainty that she put on her bonnet and issued forth, though it

snowed a little, and was a very wintry day, on Mr Ashburton's behalf, to

try her fortune in Grange Lane.

She went to Mrs Chiley's, who was now very old, poor old lady! and

feeble, and did not like to leave her sofa. Not but what she could leave

the sofa, she said to her friends, but at that time of the year, and at

her time of life, it was comfortable. The sofa was wheeled to the side

of the fire, and Mrs Chiley reclined upon it, covered with knitted rugs

of the brightest colours, which her young friends all worked for her.

The last one arrived was what used to be called an Afghanistan blanket,

done in stripes of all sorts of pretty tints, which was a present from

Mrs Beverley. "Her work, she says, Lucilla," said the old lady; "but we

know what sort of soft dawdling woman she is, and it must have been the

Archdeacon's nieces, you know." But still it had the place of honour at

present, covering Mrs Chiley's feet, and affording something to talk

about when any one came in. And by her side was a little table, upon

which stood one China rose, in a glass of water--a pale rose, almost as

pale as her soft old cheeks, and chilled like them by the approaching

frost. And the fire burned with an officious cheerfulness at her elbow,

as if it thought nothing of such accidental circumstances as winter and

old age. To be sure this was a reflection which never came into Mrs

Chiley's head, who was, on the contrary, very thankful for the fire, and

said it was like a companion. "And I often think, my dear, how do the

poor people get on, especially if they are old and sick, they have no

fires to keep them cheerful in this dreadful weather," the kind old lady

would say. She did say so now when Lucilla came in, glowing with cold

and her rapid walk, and with a flake or two of snow slowly melting on

her sealskin cloak. Perhaps it was not a sentiment the Colonel agreed

with, for he gave a humph and a little hoist of his shoulders, as if in

protest, being himself a good deal limited in his movements, and not

liking to own it, by the wintry torpor within his big old frame, and the

wintry weather outside.

"Come and tell us all the news, Lucilla, my darling," Mrs Chiley said,

as she drew down her young friend's glowing face to her own, and gave

her one of her lingering kisses; "I felt sure you would come and tell us

everything. I said it would not be like Lucilla if she didn't. We know

nothing but _the fact_, you know--not another word. Make haste and tell

us everything, my dear."

"But I don't know anything," said Miss Marjoribanks. "Of course you mean

about Mr Cavendish. I saw it in the papers, like everybody else, but I

don't know anything more."

And then Mrs Chiley's countenance fell. She was not very strong, poor

old lady, and she could have cried, as she said afterwards. "Ah, well, I

suppose there is not time," she said, after a little pause; "I suppose

he has not got here from Dover yet--one always forgets the distance. I

calculated it all over last night, and I thought he would get home by

the eleven train; but these trains are never to be calculated upon, you

know, my dear. I _am_ a little disappointed, Lucilla. Poor dear! to

think how he must have rushed home the first moment--I could have cried

when I read that address."

"I don't see why any one should cry," said Lucilla. "I think he makes a

great deal too much of that; he might have come ever so many years ago

if he had liked. Poor Mr Chiltern did not banish him, poor old man!--he

might have been here for years."

Upon which the Colonel himself drew a little nearer, and poked the fire.

"I am glad to see you are so sensible, Lucilla," he said. "It's the

first rational word I have heard on the subject. _She_ thinks he's a

kind of saint and martyr; a silly young fellow that runs off among a set

of Frenchmen because he can't get everything his own way--and then he

expects that we are all to go into transports of joy, and give him our

votes," Colonel Chiley added, smashing a great piece of coal with the

poker, with a blow full of energy, yet showing a slight unsteadiness in

it, which sent a host of blazing splinters into the hearth. He was a man

who wore very well, but he was not so steady as he once was, and

nowadays was apt, by some tremulous movement, to neutralise the strength

which he had left.

Mrs Chiley, for her part, was apt to be made very nervous by her

husband's proceedings. She was possessed by a terror that the splinters

some day would jump out of the hearth on to the carpet and fly into the

corners, "and perhaps burn us all up in our beds," as she said. She gave

a little start among her cushions, and stooped down to look over the

floor. "He will never learn that he is old," she said in Lucilla's ear,

who instantly came to her side to see what she wanted; and thus the two

old people kept watch upon each other, and noted, with a curious mixture

of vexation and sympathy, each other's declining strength.

"For my part, I would give him all my votes, if I had a hundred," said

Mrs Chiley, "and so will you, too, when you hear the rights of it.

Lucilla, my dear, tell him--I hope _you_ are not going to forsake old

friends."

"No," said Miss Marjoribanks--but she spoke with a gravity and

hesitation which did not fail to reach Mrs Chiley's ear--"I hope I shall

never desert my old friends; but I think all the same that it is Mr

Ashburton who is the right man for Carlingford," she said slowly. She

said it with reluctance, for she knew it would shock her audience, but,

at the same time, she did not shrink from her duty; and the moment had

now arrived when Lucilla felt concealment was impossible, and that the

truth must be said.

As for Mrs Chiley, she was so distressed that the tears came to her

eyes; and even the Colonel laughed, and did not understand it. Colonel

Chiley, though he was by no means as yet on Mr Cavendish's side, was not

any more capable than his neighbours of understanding Miss

Marjoribanks's single-minded devotion to what was just and right; and

why she should transfer her support to Ashburton, who was not a ladies'

man, nor, in the Colonel's opinion, a marrying man, nor anything at all

attractive, now that the other had come back romantic and repentant to

throw his honours at her feet, was beyond his power of explanation. He

contented himself with saying "humph"; but his wife was not so easily

satisfied. She took Lucilla by the hand and poured forth a flood of

remonstrances and prayers.

"I do not understand you, Lucilla," said Mrs Chiley. "He whom we know so

little about--whom, I am sure, you have no reason to care for. And where

could you find anybody nicer than Mr Cavendish?--and he to have such

faith in us, and to come rushing back as soon as he was able. I am sure

you have not taken everything into consideration, Lucilla. He might not

perhaps do exactly as could have been wished before he went away; but he

was young and he was led astray; and I do think you were a little hard

upon him, my dear; but I have always said I never knew anybody nicer

than Mr Cavendish. And what possible reason you can have to care about

that other man----"

"It was like a special Intimation," said Lucilla, with solemnity. "I

don't see how I could neglect it, for my part. The day the news came

about poor old Mr Chiltern's death I was out, you know, and heard it;

and just at one spot upon the pavement, opposite Mr Holden's, it came

into my mind like a flash of lightning that Mr Ashburton was the man. I

don't care in the least for him, and I had not been thinking of him, or

anything. It came into my head all in a moment. If I had been very

intimate with poor dear old Mr Chiltern, or if I believed in

spirit-rapping, I should think it was a message from _him_."

Lucilla spoke with great gravity, but she did not impress her audience,

who were people of sceptical minds. Mrs Chiley, for her part, was almost

angry, and could scarcely forgive Lucilla for having made her give grave

attention to such a piece of nonsense. "If it _had_ been him," she said,

with some wrath, "I don't see how having been dead for a few hours

should make his advice worth having. It never was good for anything when

he was alive. And you don't believe in spirit-rapping, I _hope_. I

wonder how you can talk such nonsense," the old lady said severely. And

Colonel Chiley, who had been a little curious too, laughed and coughed

over the joke; for the two old people were of the old school, and of a

very unbelieving frame of mind.

"I knew you would laugh," said Miss Marjoribanks, "but I cannot help it.

If it had been impressed upon _your_ mind like that, you would have been

different. And, of course, I like Mr Cavendish much the best. I am so

glad I have no vote," said Lucilla; "it does not matter to anybody what

I think; but if I had anything to do with it, you know I could not stand

up for Mr Cavendish, even though I am fond of him, when I felt sure that

Mr Ashburton is the man for Carlingford--nobody could ask me to do

that."

There followed a pause upon this declaration; for Miss Marjoribanks,

though she had no vote, was a person of undoubted influence, and such a

conviction on her part was not to be laughed at. Even Colonel Chiley,

who was undecided in his own mind, was moved by it a little. "What does

the Doctor think?" he asked. "Ashburton doesn't say a word about his

principles that I can see; and the other, you know----"

"Dear Colonel Chiley," cried Lucilla, "he is not going to be Prime

Minister; and I have always heard you say, as long as I can remember,

that it was not opinions, you know, but a good _man_ that people wanted.

I have heard people talking politics for hours, and I always remember

you saying that, and thinking it was the only sensible thing that was

said; but, of course, I don't understand politics," Lucilla added, with

humility. As for the Colonel, he took up the poker, perhaps to hide a

little pleasant confusion, and again drew near the fire.

"By George! I believe Lucilla is in the right," he said, with a certain

agreeable consciousness. Perhaps he did not quite recollect at what

moment of his life he had originated that sentiment, but he thought he

could recollect having said it; and it was with the view of carrying off

the bashfulness of genius, and not because the coals had any need of it,

that he took up the poker--a proceeding which was always regarded with

alarm and suspicion by his wife.

"The fire is very nice," said Mrs Chiley. "I hate to have the fire poked

when it does not want it. Lucilla, if you make him go over to _that_ Mr

Ashburton's side, you will have a great deal to answer for, and I will

never forgive you. My dear, you must be dreaming--a man that is as dry

as a stick, and not one-hundredth nor one-thousandth part so nice----"

"I shan't say another word," said Lucilla; "I shan't stay any longer,

for I can't help it, and you would be angry with me. People can't help

what they believe, you know. There is poor little Oswald Brown, who has

doubts, and can't go into the Church, and will ruin all his prospects,

and nobody can help it----"

"If I were his mother I should help it!" cried Mrs Chiley. "I promise

you he should not talk of his doubts to me! A bit of a lad; and what is

good enough for all the bishops, and everybody in their senses, is not

good enough for him! If that is the kind of example you are going to

follow, Lucilla----"

"Dear Mrs Chiley," said Miss Marjoribanks, "everybody knows what my

Church principles are; and perhaps you will come round to think with me;

but I am not going to say any more about it now. I am so glad your

rheumatism is better this morning; but you must wrap up well, for it is

so cold, oh, so cold, out of doors!"

When Lucilla had thus dismissed the subject, she came to her old

friend's side and bent over her in her sealskin cloak, to say good-bye.

Mrs Chiley took her by both hands as she thus stood with her back to the

old Colonel, and drew her down close, and looked searchingly into her

eyes. "If you have any _particular_ reason, Lucilla, you ought to tell

me--that would make such a difference," said the old lady. "I always

tell you everything," said Miss Marjoribanks, with evasive fondness, as

she kissed the soft old withered cheek; and naturally, with the Colonel

behind, who was standing up before the fire shadowing over them both,

and quite unaware of this little whispered episode, it would have been

impossible to say more had there been ever so much to say. But it had

been a close encounter in its way, and Lucilla was rather glad to get

off without any further damage. She did not feel quite successful as she

went out; but still she had left a very wholesome commotion behind her;

for Colonel Chiley could not but feel that the sentiment which she had

quoted from himself was a very just sentiment. "By George! Lucilla was

in the right of it," he said again, after she was gone; and in fact went

through a process very similar to that which had modified the sentiments

of Dr Marjoribanks on the previous night. Mr Cavendish was a young

fellow who had rushed off among a set of Frenchmen, because Lucilla

Marjoribanks would not have him, or because he could not marry Barbara

Lake in addition, or at least somehow because he failed of having his

own way. It was all very well for him to come back and make a commotion,

and be sentimental about it. But what if, after all, Ashburton, who had

the Firs, and lived there, and spent his money like a Christian, was the

man for Carlingford? The Colonel's mind still wavered and veered about;

yet it had received an impulse which was by no means unworthy of

consideration.

As for Mrs Chiley, she laid back her head upon her pillows and painfully

questioned with herself whether Lucilla could have any _particular_

reason for taking Mr Ashburton's part so warmly. She thought with

justice that Miss Marjoribanks was looking brighter and better, and had

more of her old animation than she had shown for a long time--which

arose from the simple fact that she had something in hand, though the

old lady thought it might have a more touching and delicate motive. If

_that_ was the case, it would make a great difference. Mrs Chiley was no

longer able to go out in the evening, and had to be dependent on other

people's observation for a knowledge of what happened--and she was

wounded by a sense that her young friend had not been appreciated as her

worth deserved. If Mr Ashburton had the sense to see what was for his

own advantage, it would be a frightful thing, as Mrs Chiley said to

herself, if Lucilla's friends should fly in his face. And though it was

a hard trial to give up Mr Cavendish, still if anything of the kind had

happened----Thus it will be evident that Lucilla's visit, though it was

not a long one, nor the least in the world an argumentative visit, was

not without its fruit.

She went up Grange Lane again cheerful and warm in her sealskin coat. It

was a thing that suited her remarkably well, and corresponded with her

character, and everybody knows how comfortable they are. The snowflakes

fell softly, one at a time, and melted away to nothing upon her sleeves

and her shoulders without leaving any trace--and Lucilla, with the chill

air blowing in her face, and those feathery messengers in the air, could

not but feel that her walk and the general readiness which she felt to

face all kinds of objections and difficulties, and to make a sacrifice

of her own feelings, had in them a certain magnanimous and heroic

element. For after all she had no _particular_ reason, as Mrs Chiley

said. Mr Ashburton was a dry man, and of very little use in a social

point of view, and had never paid her any attention to speak of, nor at

all put himself forth as a candidate for her favour. If he had done so,

she would not have felt that thrill of utter disinterestedness which

kept her as warm within as her sealskin did without.

There was not a soul to be seen in Grange Lane at that moment in the

snow, which came on faster and faster, but one of Mr Wentworth's (who at

that time was new in St Roque's) gray sisters, and another lady who was

coming down, as quickly as Lucilla was going up, by the long line of

garden walls. The gentlemen were either at business or at their club, or

keeping themselves snug indoors; and it was only these devoted women who

braved the elements outside. The figure in the gray cloak was occupied

simply with the poor people, and that is not our present business; but

the other two were otherwise inspired. Mr Cavendish, who had lately

arrived, had not been able to make up his mind to face the weather; but

his sister was of a different way of thinking. She was not of half the

capacity of Lucilla, but still she felt that something ought to be done,

and that there was not a moment to be lost. When she saw it was Miss

Marjoribanks that was advancing to meet her, a momentary chill came over

Mrs Woodburn. She was thinking so much of her own errand that she could

not but jump at the idea that nothing less important could have induced

Lucilla to be out of doors on such a day; and her heart beat loud as the

two drew near each other. Was it an unexpected and generous auxiliary,

or was it a foe accomplished and formidable? For one thing, she was not

coming out of Mr Centum's, where Mrs Woodburn herself was going, which

at least was a relief. As they came nearer the two ladies instinctively

looked to their weapons. They had met already in many a little passage

of arms, but nothing like this had ever occurred to them before. If they

were to work in union, Mrs Woodburn felt that they would carry all

before them; and if not, then it must be a struggle unto the death.

"Is it really you, Lucilla?" she said; "I could not believe my eyes.

What can have brought you out of doors on such a day? You that have

everything your own way, and no call to exert yourself----"

"I have been to see Mrs Chiley," said Lucilla sweetly; "when the weather

is bad she sees nobody, and she is always so pleased to have me. Her

rheumatism is not so bad, thank you--though I am sure if this weather

should last----"

"You would see Mrs Beverley's blanket," said Mrs Woodburn, who was a

little nervous, though perhaps that might only be the cold; "but we know

what sort of woman she is, and it must have been the Archdeacon's

nieces, my dear. Do turn back with me a moment, Lucilla; or I shall go

with you. I want to speak to you. Of course you have heard of Harry's

coming home?"

"I saw it in the papers," said Miss Marjoribanks, whose perfect serenity

offered a curious contrast to her companion's agitation. "I am sure I

shall be very glad to see him again. I hope he will come to dinner on

Thursday as he used to do. It will be quite nice to see him in his old

place."

"Yes," said Mrs Woodburn; "but that was not what I was thinking of. You

know you used always to say he ought to be in Parliament; and he has

always kept thinking of it since he went away--and thinking, I am sure,

that it would please you," said the poor woman, faltering; for Lucilla

listened with a smile that was quite unresponsive, and did not change

countenance in the least, even at this tender suggestion. "He has come

home with that object now, you know, now that poor old Mr Chiltern is

dead; and I hope you are going to help us, Lucilla," said Mrs Woodburn.

Her voice quite vibrated with agitation as she made this hurried,

perhaps injudicious, appeal, thinking within herself at the same moment

what would Harry say if he knew that she was thus committing him. As for

Lucilla, she received it all with the same tranquillity, as if she

expected it, and was quite prepared for everything that her assailant

had to say.

"I am sure I wish I had a vote," said Lucilla; "but I have no vote, and

what can a girl do? I am so sorry I don't understand politics. If we

were going in for that sort of thing, I don't know what there would be

left for the gentlemen to do."

"You have influence, which is a great deal better than a vote," said Mrs

Woodburn; "and they all say there is nobody like a lady for

electioneering--and a young lady above all; and then you know Harry so

well, and can always draw him out to the best advantage. I never thought

he looked so nice, or showed his talents so much, as when he was with

you," said the eager advocate. She was only wrapped in a shawl herself,

and when she looked at Lucilla's sealskin coat, and saw how rosy and

comfortable she looked, and how serene and immovable, poor Mrs Woodburn

was struck with a pang of envy. If Miss Marjoribanks had married ten

years ago, it might have been she now who would have had to stand

trembling with anxiety and eagerness among the falling snow, knowing

sundry reasons why Mr Cavendish should be disposed to go into Parliament

more substantial than that of gratifying a young lady, and feeling how

much depended on her ability to secure support for him. This, as it

happened, had fallen to his sister's share instead, and Lucilla stood

opposite to her looking at her, attentive and polite, and unresponsive.

If Harry had only not been such a fool ten years ago! for Mrs Woodburn

began to think now with Aunt Jemima, that Lucilla did not marry because

she was too comfortable, and, without any of the bother, could have

everything her own way.

"It is so cold," said Miss Marjoribanks, "and I do think it is coming on

to snow very fast. I don't think it is good to stand talking. Do come in

to lunch, and then we can have a long chat; for I am sure nobody else

will venture out to-day."

"I wish I could come," said Mrs Woodburn, "but I have to go down to Mary

Centum's, and hear all about her last new housemaid, you know. I don't

know what servants are made of for my part. They will go out in their

caps and talk to the young men, you know, in a night that is enough to

give any one their death," the mimic added, with a feeble exercise of

her gift which it was sad to see. "But Harry will be sure to come to

call the first time he goes out, and you _will_ not forget what I have

said to you, Lucilla?" and with this Mrs Woodburn took her young

friend's hand and looked in her face with a pathetic emphasis which it

would be impossible to describe.

"Oh, no, certainly not," said Miss Marjoribanks, with cheerful

certainty; and then they kissed each other in the midst of the falling

snow. Mrs Woodburn's face was cold, but Lucilla's cheek was warm and

blooming as only a clear conscience and a sealskin cloak could have made

it; and then they went their several ways through the wintry solitude.

Ah, if Harry had only not been such a fool ten years ago! Mrs Woodburn

was not an enthusiastic young wife, but knew very well that marriage had

its drawbacks, and had come to an age at which she could appreciate the

comfort of having her own way without any of the bother. She gave a

furtive glance after Lucilla, and could not but acknowledge to herself

that it would be very foolish of Miss Marjoribanks to marry, and forfeit

all her advantages, and take somebody else's anxieties upon her

shoulders, and never have any money except what she asked from her

husband. Mrs Chiley, to be sure, who was more experienced than Mrs

Woodburn, and might have been her grandmother, took a different view of

the subject; but this was what the middle-aged married woman felt, who

had, as may be said, two men to carry on her shoulders, as she went

anxiously down Grange Lane to conciliate Mrs Centum, wrapping her shawl

about her, and feeling the light snow melt beneath her feet, and the

cold and discomfort go to her heart. She had her husband to keep in good

humour, and her brother to keep up and keep to the mark, and to do what

she could to remedy in public the effects of his indolent Continental

habits, and carry, if it was possible, the election for him--all with

the horrid sense upon her mind that if at any time the dinner should be

a little less cared for than usual, or the children more noisy, Woodburn

would go on like a savage. Under such circumstances, the poor woman,

amid her cares, may be excused if she looked back a little wistfully at

Lucilla going home all comfortable and independent and light-hearted,

with no cares, nor anybody to go on at her, in her sealskin coat.

This was how Lucilla commenced that effective but decorous advocacy

which did Mr Ashburton so much good in Carlingford. She did not pretend

to understand about politics, or to care particularly about Reform or

the Income-tax; but she expressed with quiet solemnity her conviction

that it was not opinions but a good man that was wanted; that it was not

a prime minister they were going to elect, and that Mr Ashburton was the

man for Carlingford. "By George! Lucilla is in the right of it!" Colonel

Chiley said; "that was always my opinion;" and the people in Grange Lane

soon began to echo the Colonel's sentiments, which were so sound and so

just.

As for Miss Marjoribanks, nobody had any occasion to "go on" about any

neglect on her part of her household duties. Dr Marjoribanks's dinners

were always excellent, and it was now, as ever, a privilege to be

admitted to his table; and nothing could be more exemplary than the care

Lucilla took of Aunt Jemima, who had always such bad nights. Even on

this snowy afternoon she went in from her more important cares, with a

complexion freshened by the cold, and coaxed Mrs John into eating

something, and made her as comfortable as possible at the drawing-room

fireside.

"Now, tell me all about Tom," Lucilla said, when she had got her work

and settled herself comfortably for a quiet afternoon--for the snow had

come on heavier than ever, and unless it might be a sister of charity,

or such another sister not of charity, as Lucilla had already

encountered, nobody was like to stir abroad or to disturb the two ladies

in their work and their talk. Lucilla had some very interesting

worsted-work in hand; and the drawing-room never looked more cosy, with

somebody to talk to inside, and the wintry world and driving snow

without. And such an invitation as Miss Marjoribanks had just given

lifted Aunt Jemima into a paradise of content. She took Lucilla at her

word, and told her, as may be supposed, _all_ about Tom, including many

things which she was quite acquainted with and knew by heart; and at the

same time there was something implied all through, but never

obtrusively set forth, which was not displeasing to the auditor. Miss

Marjoribanks listened with affectionate satisfaction, and asked a great

many questions, and supplied a great many reminiscences, and entered

quite into the spirit of the conversation, and the two spent a very

pleasant afternoon together,--so pleasant that Mrs John felt quite

annoyed at the reflection that it must come to an end like everything

else that is good, and that she must get herself once more into her

velvet gown and dine with her brother-in-law. If Providence had only

given her the girl instead of the Doctor, who would no doubt have got on

quite well without any children! but then, to be sure, if Lucilla had

been hers to start with, she never could have married Tom.

For this was the extravagant hope which had already begun to blossom in

his mother's breast. To be sure a woman might marry Tom, who was too

comfortable at home to think of marrying just anybody who might make her

an offer. But it was not easy to tell how Lucilla herself felt on this

subject. Her complexion was so bright with her walk, her sensations so

agreeable after that warm, cheerful, pleasant afternoon, her position so

entirely everything that was to be desired, and her mind so nobly

conscious of being useful to her kind and country, that, even without

any additional argument, Miss Marjoribanks had her reward, and was

happy. Perhaps a touch more exquisite might still come in to round the

full proportions of content. But, to tell the truth, Lucilla was so well

off that it was not necessary to invent any romantic source of happiness

to account for the light of well-being and satisfaction that shone in

her eyes.

_Chapter XL_

The result of Miss Marjoribanks's wise precaution and reticence was that

Sir John Richmond and the Doctor and Colonel Chiley were all on Mr

Ashburton's committee. They might not agree with his principles; but

then when a man does not state any very distinct principles, it is

difficult for any one, however well disposed, to disagree with him; and

the fact that he was the man for Carlingford was so indisputable, that

nobody attempted to go into the minor matters. "Mr Ashburton is a

gentleman known to us all," Sir John said, with great effect, in his

nomination speech; and it was a sentence which went to the hearts of his

audience. The other candidate had been a long time from home, and it was

longer still since anybody in Carlingford could be said to have

benefited by his residence there. He had had all his things down from

town, as Mr Holden, the upholsterer, pithily remarked--and that made a

great difference to start with. As for Mr Ashburton, though it is true

nobody knew what he thought about Reform or the Income-tax, everybody

knew that he lived at the Firs, and was supplied in a creditable way by

George Street tradesmen. There was no mystery whatever about him. People

knew how much he had a year, and how much he paid for everything, and

the way in which his accounts were kept, and all about him. Even when he

had his wine direct from the growers (for naturally his own county could

not supply the actual liquor), it was put in Carlingford bottles, and

people knew the kinds he had, and how much, and a hundred agreeable

details. And then, "he was a gentleman as was always ready to give his

advice," as some of the people said. All this furnished an immense body

of evidence in his favour, and made Sir John's remark eloquent. And then

Carlingford, as a general rule, did not care the least in the world

about Reform. There were a few people who had once done so, and it was

remarked in Grove Street that Mr Tozer had once been in a dreadful state

of mind about it. But he was quite tranquil on the subject now, and so

was the community in general. And what was really wanted, as Lucilla's

genius had seen at a glance, was not this or that opinion, but a good

man.

But at the same time it would be vain to deny that Miss Marjoribanks

looked forward to a possible visit from Mr Cavendish with a certain

amount of anxiety. She was not frightened, for she knew her own powers;

but she was a little excited and stimulated by the idea that he might

come in at any minute, bringing back a crowd of recollections with him;

and it was a perpetual wonder to her how he would take the inevitable

difference, whether he would accept it as natural, or put on the airs of

an injured man. Lucilla did not go out the two afternoons after her

meeting with Mrs Woodburn, partly that she might not miss him if he

called--for it was better to have it over; but Mr Cavendish did not come

on either of these days. After that, of course, she did not wait for him

any longer. But on the third or fourth day, when she was in Miss Brown's

photographing room (the eldest Miss Brown was not married, and was a

mother to the younger girls, and always enthusiastic about sitters), Mr

Ashburton called about business, and Thomas came to fetch Miss

Marjoribanks. She was sitting with the greatest good-nature for half a

dozen pictures, knowing in her secret heart all the time that she would

look a perfect fright, and that all Carlingford would see her grinning

with imbecile amiability out of the hazy background of Miss Brown's

_cartes_. Lucilla knew this, and had hitherto avoided the process with

success; but now she gave in; and as the Major was there, of course they

talked of the coming election, which, indeed, at present was almost the

only topic of conversation in Grange Lane.

"Of course, you are on Mr Ashburton's committee," said Lucilla; "you

must be, or going to be, after what you said the other day at lunch----"

"What did I say?" asked Major Brown, with an air of dismay; for, to tell

the truth, his heart inclined a little towards poor Mr Cavendish, who

was an old neighbour, and to whom Major Brown could not but think the

Marjoribanks and others had behaved rather cruelly. But then in these

electioneering matters one never knows what one may have done to

compromise oneself without meaning it; and the Major was a little

anxious to find out what he had said.

"Dear Major Brown," said Lucilla, seriously, "I am so sorry if you did

not mean it. I am sure it was that as much as anything that influenced

Mr Ashburton. He was turning it all over in his mind, you know, and was

afraid the people he most esteemed in Carlingford would not agree with

him, and did not know what to do; and then you said, What did it matter

about opinions, if it was a good man?--that was what decided him," said

Miss Marjoribanks, with sad yet gentle reproachfulness. "I am so sorry

if you did not mean what you said----"

"Good heavens! I don't remember saying anything of the sort," said Major

Brown. "I--I am sure I never thought of influencing anybody. It is true

enough about a good man, you know; but if I had imagined for an instant

that any one was paying attention----By George! it was you that said it,

Lucilla--I remember now."

"Please don't make fun of me," said Miss Marjoribanks; "as if anybody

cared what _I_ say about politics. But I know that was what decided poor

Mr Ashburton. Indeed, he told me so; and when he finds you did not mean

anything----"

"But, good heavens!--I--I did mean something," cried the accused, with

dismay. And he grew quite inarticulate in his confusion, and red in the

face, and lost his head altogether, while Lucilla sat calmly looking on

with that air of virtue at once severe and indulgent, which pities, and

blames, and hopes that perhaps there is not so much harm done as might

have been expected. This was the position of affairs when Thomas came to

say that Miss Marjoribanks was wanted, as she had told him to do when

her candidate came; for, to be sure, it was only next door. It was

terrible to hear the soft sigh she gave when she shook hands with Major

Brown. "I hope he will not feel it so much as I think; but I should be

afraid to tell him," said Lucilla; and she went away, leaving the good

man in a state of bewilderment and embarrassment and doubt, which would

have been much more unpleasant if he had not felt so flattered at the

same time. "I never meant to influence anybody, I am sure!" he said,

with a comical mixture of complacence and dismay, when Lucilla was gone.

"I have always said, papa, that you don't think enough of the weight

people give to your opinion," Miss Brown replied, as she gave the final

bath to her negatives; and they both left off work with a certain glow

of comforted _amour propre_, and the most benevolent sentiments towards

Mr Ashburton, who, to tell the truth, until he got his lesson from Miss

Marjoribanks, had never once thought about the opinion of Major Brown.

He was sitting with Aunt Jemima when Lucilla came in, and talking to her

in a steady sort of a way. Nothing could have made Mr Ashburton socially

attractive, but still there are many people to whom this steady sort of

talk is more agreeable than brilliancy. When a man is brilliant there is

always a doubt in some minds whether he is trustworthy, or sincere, or

to be relied upon; but an ordinary commonsense sort of talker is free

from such suspicion. Mr Ashburton was very sorry to hear that Mrs John

Marjoribanks had bad nights, and suggested that it might be nervousness,

and hoped that the air of Carlingford would do her good, and was very

glad to hear that her son was getting on so well in India; and Aunt

Jemima could not help approving of him, and feeling that he was a person

of substance and reflection, and not one of those fly-away young men who

turn girls' heads, and never mean anything. Lucilla herself gained

something in Mrs John's eyes from Mr Ashburton's high opinion; but at

the same time it was quite clear that he was not thinking of anything

sentimental, but was quite occupied about his election, as a man of

sense should be. Lucilla came in with a fine bloom on her cheeks, but

still with a shade of that sadness which had had so great an effect upon

Major Brown. She had taken off her hat before she came in, and dropped

into her chair with an air of languor and fatigue which was quite

unusual to her. "It makes such a difference in life when one has

something on one's mind," said Lucilla, and she sighed, as was but

natural; for though that did not affect the energy of her proceedings,

she knew and remembered at moments of discouragement how seldom one's

most disinterested exertions are appreciated at the end.

"You want your lunch, my dear," said Mrs John.

"Perhaps I do," said Miss Marjoribanks, with a mournful affectionate

smile. "I have been sitting to Maria Brown. She has taken six, and I am

sure they are every one more hideous than the other; and they will go

all over England, you know, for the Browns have hosts of people

belonging to them; and everybody will say, 'So _that_ is Miss

Marjoribanks.' I don't think I am vain to speak of," said Lucilla, "but

that sort of thing goes to one's heart."

"These amateurs are terrible people," said Mr Ashburton, in his steady

way; "and photographs are a regular nuisance. For my part----"

"Don't say that," said Miss Marjoribanks. "I know what you are going to

say; and you _must_ sit to her, please. I have said already she must do

one of you; and I will tell you presently about the Major. But wait and

talk to Aunt Jemima a little, for I am so tired," said Lucilla. She was

lying back negligently in her seat, with that air of languor which so

many young ladies excel in, but which was for her a novel indulgence.

Her hand hung over the arm of her chair as if there was no longer any

force in it. Her head fell back, her eyes were half closed; it was a

moment of abandonment to her sensations, such as a high-principled young

woman like Miss Marjoribanks seldom gives way to. But Lucilla went into

it conscientiously, as into everything she did, that she might regain

her strength for the necessary duties that were before her.

And it was at this moment that Thomas appeared at the door with a

suspicion of a grin appearing at the corners of his sober mouth, and

announced Mr Cavendish, who came in before an ordinary woman would have

had time to open her eyes. This was the moment he had chosen for his

first visit; and yet it was not he who had chosen it, but fate, who

seemed to have in this respect a spite against Lucilla. It was not only

the embarrassing presence of his rival, but the fact that neither of the

two people in the room knew or had ever seen Mr Cavendish, that put a

climax to the horror of the situation. She alone knew him, and had to

take upon herself to present and introduce him, and bridge over for him

the long interval of absence, and all this with the sense of being in

the enemy's interest, and to a certain extent false to Mr Cavendish!

Lucilla rose at once, but she was not a woman to make pretences. She did

not throw off all in a moment her fatigue, and dash into spasmodic

action. She held out her hand silently to Mr Cavendish, with a look

which spoke only affectionate satisfaction in a friend's return. She did

not even speak at all for the first moment, but contented herself with a

look, which indeed, if he had been younger and less preoccupied, would

no doubt have touched his very heart.

"So you have really come back," she said. "I am so glad! after all that

people said about your being married and dead and ever so many stupid

things. Oh! don't look at me, please. It doesn't matter with a

gentleman, but I know as well as if you had told me that you think me

dreadfully gone off----"

"_I_ entertain such a profane idea!" said Mr Cavendish; but he was

considerably embarrassed, and he was a great deal stouter, and

altogether different from what he used to be, and he had not the light

hand of his youth for a compliment. And then he sat down on the chair

Thomas had given him; and he looked uncomfortable, to say the least of

it; and he was getting large in dimensions and a little red in the face,

and had by no means the air of thinking that it didn't matter for a

gentleman. As for Miss Marjoribanks, it would be impossible to say what

mists of illusion dropped away from her mind at the sight of him. Even

while she smiled upon the new-comer, she could not but ask herself, with

momentary dismay--Had _she_ really gone off as much in the same time?

"I have been looking for you," Miss Marjoribanks resumed; "I waited in

for you Tuesday and Wednesday, and it is so odd you should have come

just at this minute. Aunt Jemima, this is Mr Cavendish, whom you have

heard so much about--and don't go, please, Mr Ashburton--you two must

know each other. You will be hearing of each other constantly; and I

suppose you will have to shake hands or something on the hustings--so it

will be much the best to begin it here."

But the two candidates did not shake hands: they bowed to each other in

an alarming way, which did not promise much for their future

brotherliness, and then they both stood bolt upright and stared at Miss

Marjoribanks, who had relapsed, in the pleasantest way in the world,

into her easy-chair.

"Now, please sit down and talk a little," said Lucilla; "I am so proud

of having you both together. There never has been anybody in the world

that I have missed so much as _you_--you knew that when you went away,

but you didn't mind. Mr Ashburton is very nice, but he is of no use to

speak of in an evening," said Miss Marjoribanks, turning a reflective

glance upon her own candidate with a certain sadness; and then they both

laughed as if it was a joke; but it was no joke, as one of them at least

must have known.

"Lucilla," said Mrs John, with consternation, "I never heard anybody

talk as you do; I am sure Mr Ashburton is the very best of society, and

as for Mr Cavendish----"

"Dear Aunt Jemima," said Lucilla, "would you mind ringing the bell? I

have been sitting to Maria Brown, and I am almost fainting. I wish you

gentlemen would sit to her; it would please her, and it would not do

_you_ much harm; and then for your constituents, you know----"

"I hope you don't wish me to look like one of Maria Brown's photographs

to my constituents," said Mr Cavendish; "but then I am happy to say they

all know me pretty well." This was said with a slight touch of

gentlemanly spite, if there is such a thing; for, after all, he _was_ an

old power in Carlingford, though he had been so long away.

"Yes," said Lucilla reflectively, "but you are a little changed since

then; a little perhaps--just a little--stouter, and----"

"Gone off?" said Mr Cavendish, with a laugh; but he felt horribly

disconcerted all the same, and savage with Miss Marjoribanks, and could

not think why "that fellow" did not go away. What had _he_ to do in

Lucilla's drawing-room? what did he mean by sitting down again and

talking in that measured way to the old lady, as if all the ordinary

rules of good breeding did not point out to him that he should have gone

away and left the field clear?

"Oh, you know it does not matter for a gentleman," said Lucilla; and

then she turned to Mr Ashburton--"I am sure the Major wants to see you,

and he thinks that it was he who put it into your head to stand. He was

here that day at lunch, you know, and it was something he said----"

"Quite true," said Mr Ashburton in his business way. "I shall go to see

him at once. Thank you for telling me of it, Miss Marjoribanks; I shall

go as soon as I leave here."

And then Mr Cavendish laughed. "This is what I call interesting," he

said. "I hope Mr Ashburton sees the fun; but it is trying to an old

friend to hear of _that_ day at lunch, you know. I remember when these

sort of allusions used to be pleasant enough; but when one has been

banished for a thousand years----"

"Yes," said Lucilla, "one leaves all that behind, you know--one leaves

ever so many things behind. I wish we could always be twenty, for my

part. I always said, you know, that I should be gone off in ten years."

"Was it the only fib you ever told that you repeat it so?" said Mr

Cavendish; and it was with this pretty speech that he took her

downstairs to the well-remembered luncheon. "But you _have_ gone off in

some things when you have to do with a prig like that," he said in her

ear, as they went down together, "and cast off old friends. It was a

thing a fellow did not expect of _you_."

"I never cast off old friends," said Miss Marjoribanks. "We shall look

for you on Thursday, you know, all the same. Must you go, Mr Ashburton,

when lunch is on the table? But then, to be sure, you will be in time at

the Browns'," said Lucilla sweetly, and she gave the one rival her hand

while she held the arm of the other, at the door of the dining-room, in

which Mr Ashburton had gallantly deposited Aunt Jemima before saying

good-bye. They were both looking a little black, though the gloom was

moderate in Mr Ashburton's case; but as for Lucilla, she stood between

them a picture of angelic sweetness and goodness, giving a certain

measure of her sympathy to both--Woman the Reconciler, by the side of

those other characters of Inspirer and Consoler, of which the world has

heard. The two inferior creatures scowled with politeness at each other,

but Miss Marjoribanks smiled upon them both. Such was the way in which

she overcame the difficulties of the meeting. Mr Ashburton went away a

little annoyed, but still understanding his instructions, and ready to

act upon them in that businesslike way he had, and Mr Cavendish

remained, faintly reassured in the midst of his soreness and

mortification, by at least having the field to himself and seeing the

last (for the present) of his antagonist--which was a kind of victory in

its way.

"I thought I knew you better than to think you ever would have anything

to do with _that_ sort of thing," said Mr Cavendish. "There are people,

you know, whom I could have imagined--but a prig like that." He became

indeed quite violent, as Aunt Jemima said afterwards, and met with that

lady's decided disapproval, as may be supposed.

"Mr Ashburton is very well-bred and agreeable," Mrs John said, with

emphasis. "I wish all the young men I see nowadays were as nice."

"Young men!" said Mr Cavendish. "Is that what people call young

nowadays? And he must be insane, you know, or he would never dream of

representing a town without saying a single word about his principles.

I dare say he thinks it is original," said the unhappy man. He thought

he was pointing out his rival's weakness to Lucilla, and he went on with

energy--"I know you better than to think you can like that

milk-and-water sort of thing."

"Oh, I don't pretend to know anything about politics," said Lucilla. "I

hear you gentlemen talk, but I never pretend to understand. If we were

not to leave you _that_ all to yourselves, I don't know what you could

find to do," Miss Marjoribanks added compassionately; and as she spoke

she looked so like the Lucilla of old, who had schemed and plotted for

Mr Cavendish, that he could not believe in her desertion in his heart.

"That is a delusion like the going off," he said. "I can't believe you

have gone over to the enemy. When I remember how I have been roving

about all those ten years, and how different it might have been, and

whose fault it all was----"

This Mr Cavendish said in a low voice, but it did not the less horrify

Aunt Jemima, who felt prepared for any atrocity after it. She would have

withdrawn, in justice to her own sense of propriety; but then she

thought it was not impossible that he might propose to Lucilla on the

spot, or take her hand or something, and for propriety's sake she

stayed.

"Yes," said Lucilla--and her heart did for one little moment give a

faint thump against her breast. She could not help thinking what a

difference it might have made to him, poor fellow, had he been under her

lawful and righteous sway these ten years. But as she looked at him it

became more and more apparent to Miss Marjoribanks that Mr Cavendish

_had_ gone off, whatever she herself might have done. The outlines of

his fine figure had changed considerably, and his face was a little red,

and he had the look of a man whose circumstances, spiritual and

temporal, would not quite bear a rigid examination. As she looked at him

her pity became tinged by a certain shade of resentment to think that

after all it was his own fault. She could not, notwithstanding her

natural frankness of expression, say to him, "You foolish soul, why

didn't you marry me somehow, and make a man of yourself?" Lucilla

carried honesty very far, but she could not go as far as that. "Yes,"

she said, turning her eyes upon him with a sort of abstract sympathy,

and then she added softly, "Have you ever seen Her again?" with a

lowering of her voice.

This interesting question, which utterly bewildered Aunt Jemima, drove

Mr Cavendish wild with rage. Mrs John said afterwards that she felt a

shiver go through her as he took up the carving-knife, though it was

only to cut some cold beef. He grew white all at once, and pressed his

lips tightly together, and fixed his eyes on the wall straight before

him. "I did not think, after what I once said to you, Miss Marjoribanks,

that you would continue to insult my judgment in that way," he said,

with a chill which fell upon the whole table, and took the life out of

everything, and dimmed the very fire in the chimney. And after that the

conversation was of a sufficiently ordinary description until they went

back again into the drawing-room, by which time Mr Cavendish seemed to

have concluded that it was best to pocket the affront.

"I am going to begin my canvass to-morrow," he said. "I have not seen

anybody yet. I have nobody but my sister to take _me_ in hand, you know.

There was once a time when it might have been different"--and he gave

Lucilla a look which she thought on the whole it was best to meet.

"Yes," said Miss Marjoribanks, with cruel distinctness, "there was a

time when you were the most popular man in Grange Lane--everybody was

fond of you. I remember it as if it had been yesterday," said Lucilla,

with a sigh.

"You don't give a man much encouragement, by Jove!" said the unlucky

candidate. "You remember it like yesterday? It may be vanity, but I

flatter myself I shall still be found the most popular man in Grange

Lane."

Miss Marjoribanks sighed again, but she did not say anything. On the

contrary she turned to Aunt Jemima, who kept in the background an

alarmed and alert spectator, to consult her about a shade of wool; and

just then Mr Cavendish, looking out of the window, saw Major Brown

conducting his rival through his garden, and shaking hands with him

cordially at the door. This was more than the patience of the other

candidate could bear. A sudden resolution, hot and angry, as are the

resolutions of men who feel themselves to have a failing cause, came

into his mind. He had been badgered and baited to such an extent (as he

thought) that he had not time to consider if it was wise or not. He,

too, had sat to Maria Brown, and commanded once the warmest admiration

of the household. He thought he would put it to the test, and see if

after all his popularity was only a thing to be remembered like

yesterday;--and it was with this intention that he bade a hurried

good-bye to Lucilla, and, rushing out, threw himself at once upon the

troubled waves of society, which had once been as smooth as glass to the

"Yes, I thought you would be surprised," said Dr Marjoribanks dryly; and