‘I will not say unlooked-for. I have always looked forward,’ said the Rector, ‘to making the acquaintance of the family. How do you do? And, of course, at once I perceive the likeness you spoke of, Emily. You are here on a very brief visit, it appears, Lord----.’ It seemed to Mr. Plowden that to say Will would be too familiar, and to say William would affect his sister’s nerves; therefore he stopped short there, and said no name at all. ‘You have scarcely had time to make your cousin’s acquaintance,’ he said. Lord Will had been quite unprepared for a man and a brother taking the part of the poor lady about whom he had been holding so many discussions. He was a little taken aback. ‘As a point of fact, a fellow has so little time,’ he said, hesitating a little. ‘I came down to see Swinford--dine and sleep, don’t you know--that sort of thing. Swinford’s such a capital fellow to know in Paris--takes you everywhere--shows you all the swells, and that sort of thing.’ Mr. Plowden had not, perhaps, very much acquaintance with the highest order of society, at least in its young and fashionable branches. To hear Lord Will Pakenham talk of swells took away his breath. He smiled, however, paternally upon the young man who was Mab’s cousin and Lord Portcullis’s son. He was unwilling to believe that a young man of such a family could make any pretext or tell any fibs about the plain duty of paying his respects to his near relations. ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that we shall have other opportunities of seeing a little more of you. My sister, Lady William, has been for a long time established here, and all the neighbourhood would receive with pleasure any--any relation--any connection--I mean any member of such a family as yours.’ Lord Will stared a little, as is the manner of his kind, but made no reply. What reply could the poor young man make? It was so bewildering to be offered an enthusiastic welcome from the society of a village because of being related to the little gardening girl in the muddy gloves outside, that all his self-possession, which was sufficient for ordinary uses, was taken away. He gave a glance at Lady William, and espied a gleam in her eye which gave him a little comfort. There was agitation in her face, yet she saw the absurdity as well as he did. Decidedly, under other circumstances, this widow, real or fictitious, of his disreputable uncle would have been a woman not to be despised. ‘But I hear,’ said the Rector, ‘that you are the bearer of bad news. Another relation, my sister tells me, has joined the majority. I had once the pleasure, many years ago, of meeting Lord John--before there was any connection between the families. And he is gone! Well, we must all follow--we have here no abiding city. It is almost fortunate for Mab that, not having known her uncle, the shock of his loss will affect her less than it would otherwise have done.’