my daughter
Fanny may put you a little mind of her.'

'Is she not here?'

'Why, no. I wished to bring her, but she is but fifteen, and mamma
will not trust her out without herself. We are quiet people, and the
world is growing too gay for us.'

'Clara and I must come to find you out. Can you believe this tall
creature is poor dear Henry's daughter?' as Clara hastened to greet her
father's playfellow, with an alacrity which piqued Lady Britton into a
supercilious aside to Lord Fitzjocelyn that the Hendersons were in poor
circumstances, and no one visited them.

'And is no one here whom I know? Not one of the old set, George?'
asked the old lady, mournfully.

'I fear there is hardly any one,' said Mr. Henderson. 'All seem even
to me new people. Stay, do you recollect old Mrs. Golding?'

After a little confusion, Mr. Henderson's old Mrs. Golding proved to be
Mrs. Frost's young Mrs. Golding; and, on the eager inquiry whether she
were present, ensued the melancholy answer that she was deaf and
infirm, only just able to smile with pleasure at the tidings of her old
friend's restoration; and the daughter, whom she could only just
believe to be grown up, was a worn, elderly woman. Not even the one
heartfelt greeting was without sadness; and Clara likewise met with one
solitary satisfaction, and that a very mixed one. Mr. Danvers, the
young curate, whom Oliver had not thought worth presenting, was hailed
by Fitzjocelyn as if their slight Oxford acquaintance had been an
intimacy, and was by him introduced to Clara as belonging to James's
college. She frankly held out her hand, but was discomfited by his
inquiry for her brother, whom he had hoped to meet. Louis said
something about not expecting the schoolmaster abroad in the half-year,
and Clara was not at all grateful to him for relieving her from the
embarrassment, but regarded the reply as a shabby prevarication, and
was much inclined to speak out; but Louis was drawing the curate into
conversation about the population, and hearing but a desponding
history. It was interrupted when Oliver, after waiting in vain for
more distinguished company, began to marshal his guests to the grand
hall, paved with black and white marble, and with a vast extent of wall
and window, decked with evergreens, flags, and mottoes. Here a cold
collation was prepared, with a band in a music-gallery above, and all
the et ceteras dear to county papers. Oliver himself handed in Lady