“That is a consolation,” said Edgar, with a smile.
“Not so much as you think, for they are like in their ways; and then you can tell in a moment which side of the house they belong to,” said Clare, with a shade crossing her face. “Whereas, Edgar—don’t be vexed with me for saying so—but you are not even—like mamma.”
“How do you know?” said Edgar, a little sharply; for that he was like his mother had been one of the established principles of his life.
“I have a little miniature in a bracelet. Nobody knows of it, I think, but myself. She must have been fair, to be sure; but you are not very like her, Edgar. You are not vexed? Of course, you must be like her family. But Helena Thornleigh is like her father, and Ada and Gussy are like Lady Augusta. You can’t mistake it; and then they all have little ways of speaking, and little movements: if you are going to like any of them, I wish it may be Ada. She is really nice. But Gussy is a chatterbox, and Helena is superior; and as for Mary and Beatrice——”
“Is it certain that I must like one more than another?” said Edgar. “I mean to like them all, as they are our next neighbours. Is there any reason why I should confine myself to one?”
“Oh, I suppose not,” said Clare, with a suppressed laugh; “only somehow one always thinks where there are girls—— Look! Edgar; here is some one coming up the avenue. Who can it be? The servant is in livery, and I don’t recognise the carriage, nor anything. It can’t be the Thorpes, or the Mandevilles, or the Blundells; and it can’t be the Earl, for he is in town. Look! they don’t see us and I do so want to make them out.”
“The servants are in purple and green, and there is an astounding coat of arms on the panel,” said Edgar. “You must know that—arms as big as a saucer—and somebody very big inside.” The two were in a little morning room which opened from the great drawing room, where they could see the avenue and even the flight of steps before which the carriage stopped. Clare uttered an exclamation of horror as she stood gazing out at the new comers. She seemed to her brother to shiver with sudden dismay. “It cannot be possible!” she said. What could she mean? Perhaps it was some secret enemy whom she recognised but he did not know; somebody, perhaps, connected with the secret which more or less weighed on Edgar’s life.
“Who is it?” he said, in serious alarm, coming close to her. “Any one we have reason to be afraid of? Don’t tremble so. Nobody can harm you while I am here.”
“On the contrary, they would never have ventured had not you been here!” said Clare, with vehement indignation. “They never could have had the presumption—— Edgar, it is an insult! We ought to send and say we are not at home. There are some things one ought not to bear——”
“Who are they?” he asked, beginning to perceive that there was no serious cause for fear.