She had a different aspect for each. The present one, as Cara saw looking up, after an interval, was a man, with whom Mrs. Meredith was standing in front of the furthest window. She was looking up in his face, with her eyes full of interest, not saying much; listening with her whole mind and power, every fold in her dress, every line of her hair and features, falling in with the sentiment of attention. Instead of talking, she assented with little nods of her head and soft acquiescent or remonstrative movements of her delicate hands, which were lightly clasped together. This was not at all her attitude with the ladies, whom she placed beside her, in one of the low chairs, with little caressing touches and smiles and low-voiced talk. How curious it was to watch them one by one! Cara felt a strong desire, too, to have something to tell; to go and make her confession or say her say upon some matter interesting enough to call forth that sympathetic, absorbed look--the soft touch upon her shoulder, or half embrace. It was tolerably late when the visitors went away--half-past six, within an hour of dinner. The ladies were the last to go, as they had been the first to come; and Cara, relieved by the departure of the almost last stranger, drew timidly near the fire, when Mrs. Meredith called her. It was only as she approached--and the girl felt cold, sitting so far off and being so secondary, which is a thing that makes everybody chilly--that she perceived somebody remaining, a gentleman seated in an easy-chair--an old gentleman (according to Cara; he was not of that opinion himself), who had kept his place calmly for a long time without budging, whosoever went or came. ‘Well, you have got through the heavy work,’ said this patient visitor, ‘and I hope you have sent them off happier. It has not been your fault, I am sure, if they are not happier; they have each had their audience and their appropriate word.’ ‘You always laugh at me, Mr. Somerville: why should I not say what I think they will like best to the people who come to see me?’ ‘Ah, when you put it like that!’ he said; ‘certainly, why shouldn’t you? But I think some of those good people thought that you gave them beautiful advice and consolation, didn’t you? I thought it seemed like that as I looked on.’ ‘You are always so severe. Come, my darling, you are out of sight there; come and smooth down this mentor of mine by the sight of your young face. This is my neighbour’s child, Miss Beresford, from next door.’ ‘Ah, _the_ neighbour!’ said Mr. Somerville, with a slight emphasis, and then he got up somewhat stiffly and made Cara his bow. ‘Does not he come for his daily bread like the rest?’ he said, in an undertone. ‘Mr. Beresford is going to dine with me to-night, with Cara, who has just come home,’ said Mrs. Meredith, with a slight shade of embarrassment on her face. ‘Ah! from school?’ said this disagreeable old man.