In the new shuffling of partners, the elder Miss Bowater found herself close to Anne, and at once inquired warmly for Miles, with knowledge and interest in naval affairs derived from a sailor brother, Miles’s chief friend and messmate in his training and earlier voyages.  There was something in Joanna Bowater’s manner that always unlocked hearts, and Anne was soon speaking without her fence of repellant stiffness and reserve.  Certainly Miles was loved by his mother and brothers more than he could be by an old playfellow and sisterly friend, and yet there was something in Joanna’s tone that gave Anne a sense of fellow-feeling, as if she had met a countrywoman in this land of strangers; and she even told how Miles had thought it right to send her home, thinking that she might be a comfort to his mother.  “And not knowing all that was going to happen!” said poor Anne, with an irrepressible sigh, both for her own blighted hopes, and for the whirl into which her sore heart had fallen.

“I think you will be,” said Joanna, brightly; “though it must be strange coming on so many.  Dear Mrs. Poynsett is so kind!”

“Yes,” said Anne, coldly.

“Ah! you don’t know her yet.  And Lady Rosamond!  She is delightful!”

“Have you seen her!”

“We met them just now in the village, but my brother is enchanted.  And do you know what was Julius’s first introduction to her?  It was at a great school-feast, where they had the regimental children as well as the town ones.  A poor little boy went off in an epileptic fit, and Julius found her holding him, with her own hand in his mouth to hinder the locking of the teeth.  He said her fingers were bitten almost to the bone, but she made quite light of it.”

“That was nice!” said Anne; but then, with a startled glance, and in an undertone, she added, “Are they Christians?”

Joanna Bowater paused for a moment between dismay and desire for consideration, and in that moment her father called to her, “Jenny, do you remember the dimensions of those cottages in Queckett’s Lane?” and she had to come and serve for his memory, while he was indoctrinating a younger squire with the duties of a landlord.

Meanwhile Mrs. Bowater was, for the tenth time, consulting her old friend upon Mrs. Hornblower’s capabilities of taking care of Herbert, and betraying a little disappointment that his first sermon had not yet been heard; and when his voice was complimented, she hoped Julius would spare it—­too much exertion could not be good for so young a man, and though dear Herbert looked so strong, no one would believe how much sleep he required.  Then she observed, “We found Camilla Vivian—­Lady Tyrrell I mean—­calling.  Have you seen her?”

“No.”

“Well, she really seems improved!”

“Mr. Bowater has been telling me she is handsomer than ever!”

“Oh yes!  That’s all gentlemen think of; but I meant in other ways.  She seems full of the rebuilding of St. Nicholas, and to be making great friends with your new daughter.  You don’t think,” lowering her voice, “that Raymond would have any objection to meeting her?”