rendergast had held them together. The
lady herself was worthy and kind-hearted, but dull and tedious; and
Lucilla, used to animation and intellect, had wearied excessively of the
platitudes which were meant as friendly conversation, while her keen
remarks and power of drollery and repartee were just sufficiently
perceived to be dreaded and disliked. The children were like their
mother, and were frightened and distressed by her quickness and
unreasonable expectations. Their meek, demure heaviness and complacency,
even at their sports, made her positively dislike them, all but one
scapegrace boy, in favour with no one, and whom she liked more from
perverseness and compassion than from any merits of his own. Lady
Acton's good offices gave the widow a tangible cause, such as was an
absolute satisfaction, for her antipathy, and shook the implicit trust in
Mrs. Prendergast's recommendation that had hitherto overridden her
private sentiments; yet still, habitual awe of her sister-in-law, and her
own easiness and dread of change, left things in the same state until a
crisis caused by a grand disturbance among the children. In the nice
matter of meting out blame, mamma's partiality and the children's
ungenerosity left an undue share upon the scapegrace; his indignant
partisan fought his battles 'not wisely but too well,' lost temper, and
uttered sarcastic home truths which startled and stung the lady into the
request for which she could hardly have nerved herself in cooler moments,
namely, that they might part.

This settled, each secretly felt that there was something to be
regretted, and both equally wished that a new engagement should be made
before the termination of the present should be made known at
Southminster. For this purpose, every facility had been given for Miss
Sandbrook's coming to town personally to answer two ladies to whom she
had been mentioned. A family in the neighbourhood had already been
tried, but had declined her, and Mrs. Beaumont had shown her the note;
'so stylish, such strange stories afloat.' Lucilla felt it best to break
upon new ground, and wounded and depressed, had yet resentment enough to
bear her through boldly. She wished to inspect Owen's child, and wrote
to ask Mrs. Murrell to give her a bed for a couple of nights, venturing
on this measure because, in the old woman's monthly report, she had
mentioned that Mr. Fulmort had gone abroad for a fortnight.

It had not been an exhilara