‘No,’ he said, slowly. ‘I did not wish it; but, after all, if that seemed the best way to be good for something--to make some use of one’s life----’ He spoke to Miss Cherry, but his eyes were on Cara. If she had said anything; if she had even lifted her eyes; if she had made any sign to show that even as her brother--her husband’s brother--he could be of use to her! But Cara made no reply either by word or look. She put her hand nervously upon the book which lay on the table--the book he had been reading. ‘Oh, Cara, you must not think of that,’ said Miss Cherry; ‘we can’t be so selfish as to ask Edward to read to-night.’ ‘Yes; let me read,’ he said. ‘Why should not I? I am glad to do anything after these two days. It seemed unkind to _him_, not to make some break in life--though I don’t know why; and there is nothing within reach to do. Let me read.’ Then Cara looked at him, with eyes like his own, suffused; her heart was melting, her mind satisfied. ‘But this is the one who does not care for me,’ she was saying to herself. Next door there was less conversation between the elder people. Mr. Beresford tried, indeed, to take upon him the part of consoler--to talk to her and lessen her burden; but that change of all their relations did not answer. He fell silent after a while, and she dried her eyes and began to talk to him. The maid who brought up tea announced that Missis had picked up wonderful; while the other servants in the kitchen looked at each other, and shook their heads. ‘Anyhow, _that’s_ better than the other way,’ the cook said, oracularly, ‘and we knows what we has before us--if the young gentlemen don’t find nothing to say.’ CHAPTER XXXIII. LITTLE EMMY’S VISITORS.