"'The old woman's friend,' will do very nicely," said Charity, gravely. "Thank you, Mr. Verney, and we were so glad to hear that your uncle has succeeded at last to the peerage. He can be of such use—you really would be—he and you both, Mr. Verney—quite amazed and shocked, if you knew how much poverty there is in this town."
"It's well he does not know just now, for he wants all his wits about him. This is a critical occasion, you know, and the town expects great things from a practised orator. I've stolen away, just for five minutes, to ask you the news. We are at Ware, for a few days; only two or three friends with us. They came across in my boat to-day. We are going to set all the tradespeople on earth loose upon the house in a few days. It is to be done in an incredibly short time; and my uncle is talking of getting down some of his old lady relations to act chaperon, and we hope to have you all over there. You know it's all made up, that little coldness between my uncle and your father. I'm so glad. Your father wrote him such a nice note to-day explaining his absence—he never goes into a crowd, he says—and Lord Verney wrote him a line to say, if he would allow him, he would go up to Hazelden to pay his respects this afternoon."
This move was a suggestion of Mr. Larkin's, who was pretty well up in election strategy.
"I've ascertained, my lord, he's good for a hundred and thirty-seven votes in the county, and your lordship has managed him with such consummate tact that a very little more will, with the Divine blessing, induce the happiest, and I may say, considering the disparity of your lordship's relations and his, the most dutiful feelings on his part—resulting, in fact, in your lordship's obtaining the absolute command of the constituency. You were defeated, my lord, last time, by only forty-three votes, with his influence against you. If your lordship were to start your nephew, Mr. Cleve Verney, for it next time, having made your ground good with him, he would be returned, humanly speaking, by a sweeping majority."
"So, Lord Verney's going up to see papa! Agnes, we ought to be at home. He must have luncheon."
"No—a thousand thanks—but all that's explained. There's luncheon to be in the town-hall—it's part of the programme—and speeches—and all that kind of rubbish; so he can only run up for a few minutes, just to say, 'How do ye do?' and away again. So, pray, don't think of going all that way, and he'll come here to be introduced, and make your acquaintance. And now tell me all your news."
"Well, those odd people went away from Malory"—began Charity.
"Oh, yes, I heard, I think, something of that," said Cleve, intending to change the subject, perhaps; but Miss Charity went on, for in that eventless scene an occurrence of any kind is too precious to be struck out of the record on any ground.
"They went away as mysteriously as they came—almost—and so suddenly"——
"You forgot, Charity, dear, Mr. Verney was at Ware when they went, and here two or three times after they left Malory."