She went in. Mr. Beresford was seated as usual at his writing-table, with all his books about him. He was busy, according to his gentle idea of being busy, and looked up with some surprise at his sister when she entered. Miss Cherry came noiselessly forward in her grey gown, with her soft steps. He held his pen suspended in his fingers, thinking perhaps it was some passing question which she meant to ask, then laid it down with the slightest shadow of impatience, covered immediately by a pretended readiness to know what she wanted, and a slight sigh over his wasted time. Those who have their bread to work for take interruptions far more easily than those whose labours are of importance to nobody, and Macaulay writing his History would not have breathed half so deep a sigh as did James Beresford over the half-hour he was about to lose. ‘You want something?’ he said, with the smile of a conscious martyr. ‘Only to speak to you, James,’ said Miss Cherry, breathless. Then she looked up at him with a deprecating, wistful smile. ‘It is not very often that we meet now, or have any opportunity for a little talk,’ she said. ‘Yes, Cherry, that is true enough. I have been so much away.’ ‘And people drift apart; that is true too. I know I can’t follow you in all your deep studies, James; but my heart is always the same. I think of you more than of anyone, and of Cara. I hope she will live to be the dearest comfort to you as she always was to us. The light went away from the Hill, I think, when she went away.’ ‘You have been very good to her, I am sure,’ he said, with due gratefulness, ‘and most kind. You have brought her up very wisely, Cherry. I have no fault to find with her. She is a good little girl.’ Miss Cherry, to hear her small goddess thus described, felt a sudden shock and thrill of horror; but she subdued herself. ‘I wanted to speak to you, James,’ she said, ‘of that:’ then, with a slight pant and heave of her frightened bosom--‘oh, James! do you not think you could give her a little more of your society--learn to know her better? You would find it worth your while!’ ‘Know her better! My dear Cherry, I know her very well, poor child. She is a good little girl, always obedient and dutiful. There cannot be very much fellowship between a man of my occupations and a quiet simple girl such as Cara is, I am glad to say; but I am very fond of her. You must not think I don’t appreciate my child.’ ‘It is not quite that,’ said poor Cherry. ‘Oh, James, if you only knew it, our Cara is a great deal more than merely a good little girl. I would not for a moment think of finding fault with you; but if you would see her a little more in the evening--if you would not go out quite so much----’ ‘Go out!--I really go out very seldom. I think you are making a mistake, Cherry, my dear.’ ‘Oh, no, James; since I have come it has been my great thought. I know you don’t mean to be unkind; but when you are out every evening----’