were so anxious to hear all the details,--particularly Maria!
The details of the life of a drunken sot are not pleasant tidings to be
poured into a mother's ear, or a sister's. And then, as they two had
gone away equal, and as he, John Caldigate, had returned rich, whereas
poor Dick was a wretched menial creature, he felt that his very presence
in England would carry with it some reproach against himself. He had in
truth been both loyal and generous to Dick; but still,--there was the
truth. He had come back as a rich man to his own country, while Dick was
a miserable Queensland shepherd. It was very well for him to tell his
father that a few glasses of whisky had made the difference; but it
would be difficult to explain this to the large circle at Pollington, and
very disagreeable even to him to allude to it. And he did not feel
disposed to discuss the subject with Maria, with that closer confidence
of which full sympathy is capable. And yet he did not know how to refuse
to pay the visit. He wrote a line to say that as soon as he was at
liberty he would run up to Pollington, but that at present business
incidental to his return made such a journey impossible.

But the letter, or letters, which he received from Babington were more
difficult to answer even than the Shand despatch. There were three of
them,--from his uncle, from Aunt Polly, and from--not Julia--but Julia's
second sister; whereby it was signified that Julia's heart was much too
heavily laden to allow her to write a simple, cousinly note. The
Babington girls were still Babington girls,--would still romp, row
boats, and play cricket; but their condition was becoming a care to
their parents. Here was this cousin come back, unmarried, with gold at
command,--not only once again his father's heir, but with means at
command which were not at all diminished by the Babington imagination.
After all that had passed in the linen-closet, what escape would there
be for him? That he should come to Babington would be a matter of
course. The real kindness which had been shown to him there as a child
would make it impossible that he should refuse.

Caldigate did feel it to be impossible to refuse. Though Aunt Polly had
on that last occasion been somewhat hard upon him, had laid snares for
him, and endeavoured to catch him as a fowler catches a bird, still
there had been the fact that she had been as a mother to him when he had
no other mother. His uncle, too, had supplied hi