She felt encouraged when, at luncheon, she asked Jock to walk with her to Kenminster for the evening service, after looking in at Kencroft, Robert volunteered to be of the party.

Caroline, however, did not think that he was made quite so welcome at Kencroft as his exertion deserved.  Colonel and Mrs. Brownlow were sitting in the drawing-room with the blinds down, presumably indulging in a Sunday nap in the heat of the afternoon, for the Colonel shook himself in haste, and his wife’s cap was a little less straight than suited her serene dignity, and though they kissed and welcomed the mother, they were rather short and dry towards Bobus.  They said the children had gone out walking, whereupon the two lads said they would try to meet them, and strolled out again.

This left the field free for Caroline to propose the taking the two girls to London with her.

“I am sure,” said Ellen, “you have always been very kind to the children.  But indeed, Caroline, I did not think you would have encouraged it.”

“It?-—I don’t quite understand,” said Caroline, wondering whether Ellen had suddenly taken an evangelically serious turn.

“There!” said the Colonel, “I told you she was not aware of it,” and on her imploring cry of inquiry, Ellen answered, “Of this folly of Robert.”

“Bobus, do you mean,” she cried.  “Oh!” as conviction flashed on her, “I never thought of that.”

“I am sure you did not,” said the Colonel kindly.

“But-—but,” she said, bewildered, “if-—if you mean Esther-—why did you send her over last night, and let him go out to find her now.”

“She is safe, reading to Mrs. Coffinkey,” said Ellen.  “I did not know Robert was at home, or I should not have let her come without me.”

“Esther is a very dear, sweet-looking girl,” said Caroline.  “If only she were any one else’s daughter!  Though that does not sound civil!  But I know my dear husband had the strongest feeling about first cousins marrying.”

“Yes, I trusted to your knowing that,” said the Colonel.  “And I rely on you not to be weak nor to make the task harder to us.  Remembering, too,” he added in a voice of sorrow and pity that made the words sound not unkind, “that even without the relationship, we should feel that there were strong objections.”

“I know!  My poor Bobus!” said Caroline, sadly.  “That makes it such a pity she is his cousin.  Otherwise she might do him so much good.”

“I have not much faith in good done in that manner,” said the Colonel.

Caroline thought him mistaken, but could not argue an abstract question, and came to the personal one.  “But how far has it gone?  How do you know about it?  I see now that I might have detected it in his tone, but one never knows, when one’s children grow up.”

“The Colonel was obliged to tell him in the autumn that we did not approve of flirtations between cousins,” said Mrs. Brownlow.