"How _very_ lucky I am to meet you! Such a dismal long walk, all alone!--but now we can return together. How are you, my dear Miss Henrietta? has your headache left you?--No?--Oh, how I grieve to see you suffer so! I need not inquire for you, Mr. Jacob--what a picture of youth and activity you are! Mimima, come here. Don't you remember your friend?--don't you remember Mr. Jacob Cartwright?--Ah! I thought you could not forget him! You would not be your mother's child, dearest, if you could ever forget kindness." In her address to the elder gentleman there seemed to be a little more caution in the expression of her affectionate feelings; but she looked at him, and she listened to him, and more than once repeated what he said, as if to impress the precious words on her memory. In short, from the moment the Vicar and his family entered the room, it was evident the ladies of the Park were completely put ----"In non cale;" and this, considering the undeviating respect which through life Mrs. Simpson had ever paid to wealth and station, was no trifling proof of the sincerity of that friendship which she professed for her new friends. "I hope your youngest daughter is well, and Miss Torrington also?" said Mr. Cartwright. "Quite well, thank you. Helen, do you know where your sister is?" "In the library, I believe, mamma." "Miss Cartwright, would you not like some refreshment?... Do ring the bell, Helen. I am sure, Mrs. Simpson, you ought to take some wine-and-water after your long walk." It was not difficult to see that this civility was the result of a strong and painful effort on the part of Mrs. Mowbray, and Helen was provoked with the whole party for not declining it; but no choice was left her--the bell was rung, and the tray arrived. One comfort she had, and that no trifling one: neither herself nor her mother had any further occasion to seek subjects of conversation; Mrs. Simpson took the whole of this troublesome business upon herself, and for the period that the luncheon lasted was so completely engaged in eating and talking, that she had not time for a single sigh. The two gentlemen and the little girl were very nearly as busily employed as herself; but Miss Cartwright sat silently apart, and a feeling as nearly allied perhaps to curiosity as politeness, induced Helen to change her place and seat herself near her. "Will you not take some refreshment, Miss Cartwright?... Let me get you some grapes." "I thank you--none." "Not even a little soda-water and wine? The morning seems unusually warm." "Nothing, I thank you." "Are you a great walker?" "Yes." "This is a charming country for it--such a beautiful variety of lanes and fields." "I seldom vary my walk." "Indeed! And what is the favourite spot you have chosen?" "The ugliest and most gloomy I could find, that I might be sure of never meeting any one."