Lord Arlingford not seeming to heed the incivility of his answer, continued—“Ernest, too, did well to leave London, for he knocked himself up in the House of Commons. No constitution can stand it; and I was quite glad when I heard he had obtained _leave_ of _absence_ to take a little trip on the continent, with his friend Mr. Pelham,”—and Lord Arlingford glanced at Emmeline, with a look which meant to express gallant pleasantry, but the anxiety which accompanied it, was very perceptible. Mr. Benson cleared his throat—seemed beating the time of some tune on his knee, and, after a moment’s pause, said: “In my time, husbands and wives took those little trips together; but I presume that is no longer the fashion; at least, not at the west end of the town.” Lord Arlingford made no reply—but, turning to Emmeline—“I suppose you can hardly have heard from our travellers yet; that lazy boy, Ernest, has not written to me one word since he went. Indeed, it was the newspapers that first informed me of his departure; but, in truth, I believe the wind has been directly contrary for packets coming over. I never remember, at this time of the year, such a continuation of high winds; and those diplomatic people always travel _ventre à terre_, in order, I suppose, to give a vast opinion of their importance; so we must not be too severe on Fitzhenry.” Emmeline tried to speak; her nervous lips moved, but not a word could she articulate; and her mother, wishing to change the subject, made some remarks on the freshness and beauty of the country. “Yes, indeed it is particularly beautiful just now,” said Arlingford; “and I do wonder how people can remain in town as they do; however, numbers have followed our wise example, and I thought the streets looked very dull and empty to-day, as I passed through. I suppose, Lady Fitzhenry, you have no thoughts of returning to Grosvenor-Street, while Ernest is away. I dare say he would not trust you in the gay world of London without him,” added he laughing. Emmeline, without raising her eyes from the carpet, on which they had been fixed, replied, that she meant to remain at Charlton some time longer. There was a dead pause. Poor Mrs. Benson was painfully occupied in observing her daughter; and Mr. Benson seemed resolved on avoiding every thing like advances to his visitor, who, at last, was again forced to start a new subject. Taking, therefore, a desperate resolution to come at once to the point, and ascertain how matters were likely to be between him and the Benson family, or rather, between his son and daughter-in-law, he said, “the principal object of my visit to-day, was to try and persuade you all three to come and pay me a visit at Wimbledon. I am now quite alone, and it would really be a charity”—and he addressed himself particularly to Mr. Benson.