don't know what would have been the end of it, had they been alone: as it was, I had to say, after a moment, "John, this is our cousin, Miss Forrestal."
He drew a long breath, and held out his broad hand, into which she put hers. "I am glad that—you are our cousin," said he; at which I laughed. Miss Forrestal smiled slightly, but with a very bright look in her eyes, and John sat down on a chair, with a hand on each knee.
"Your cousin has just arrived from England," said mother, and went on to tell the story. John maintained the same expression and attitude throughout, and seemed unable to turn his face away from the new-comer, whose eyes rested sometimes on the speaker, sometimes on me, and occasionally on John, she preserving meanwhile an appearance of quiet composure, and now and then supplementing mother's narrative with a remark of her own. When this was over, John said, "I hope you will enjoy yourself here. Mother understands company better than I do; but I'll do my best,—and Frank too. I wish my other brother were here: I'm sure you'd get along with him."
"You have another brother?" asked Miss Forrestal.
"Henry,—my second son," put in mother. "Yes, I think you would find him entertaining. I miss him sadly. He has been travelling abroad nearly four years: we hear from him only once in two or three months. He has been in India, too. He might easily have seen you and your father there, if he had known."
While my mother was saying this, I noticed that, for the first time, Miss Forrestal's color slowly deepened. I cannot imagine why. Perhaps the blush belonged to an earlier period of the evening and she had merely postponed it till now. That is sometimes the way with persons whose thoughts and emotions come from far below the surface.
"Henry Mainwaring!" she said, as if to herself. Then, to mother, "Do you expect him back soon?"
Mother shook her head mournfully. I said, "Perhaps in seven days, perhaps in seven years: there's no telling."
"If I only knew where he was, I'd write him to come on at once," said John, in an emphatic tone.
At this point the servant came in to announce supper,—a meal which is ordinarily little more than a ceremony with us, but which to-night was more substantial, on account of our cousin, who had probably had no dinner. "If you would like to make any changes in your dress, my dear?" said mother, as we rose. "You can take all the time you want."
"Perhaps I had better brush my hair," she answered. And so the two ladies went out, leaving John and me together. He thrust his
