Only yesterday, my back is turned for a moment, I cast my eyes on a book, having but little time for literature, monsieur – for literature, which I adore – when a cry makes itself to hear. I turn myself, and what do I see? Mesdemoiselles your nieces playing at criquette with the Messieurs Smees – sons of Doctor Smees – young galopins, monsieur!« All this was shrieked with immense volubility and many actions of the hand and parasol across the square-railings to the amused Colonel, at whom the little girls peered through the bars.

»Well, my dears, I should like to have a game at cricket with you, too,« says the kind gentlemen, reaching them each a brown hand.

»You, monsieur, c'est différent – a man of your age! Salute monsieur your uncle, mesdemoiselles. You conceive, monsieur, that I also must be cautious when I speak to a man so distinguished in a public squar.« And she cast down her great eyes and hid those radiant orbs from the Colonel.

Meanwhile, Colonel Newcome, indifferent to the direction which Miss Lebrun's eyes took, whether towards his hat or his boots, was surveying his little nieces with that kind expression which his face always wore when it was turned towards children. »Have you heard of your uncle in India?« he asked them.

»No,« says Maria.

»Yes,« says Fanny. »You know Mademoiselle said« (Mademoiselle at this moment was twittering her fingers, and, as it were, kissing them in the direction of a grand barouche that was advancing along the square) – »you know Mademoiselle said that if we were méchantes we should be sent to our uncle in India. I think I should like to go with you.«

»O you silly child!« cries Maria.

»Yes, I should, if Clive went too,« says little Fanny.

»Behold Madam, who arrives from her promenade!« Miss Lebrun exclaimed; and, turning round, Colonel Newcome had the satisfaction of beholding, for the first time, his sister-in-law.

A stout lady, with fair hair and a fine bonnet and pelisse (who knows what were the fine bonnets and pelisses of the year 183–?), was reclining in the barouche, the scarlet-plush integuments of her domestics blazing before and behind her. A pretty little foot was on the cushion opposite to her; feathers waved in her bonnet; a book was in her lap; an oval portrait of a gentleman reposed on her voluminous bosom. She wore another picture of two darling heads, with pink cheeks and golden hair, on one of her wrists, with many more chains, bracelets, bangles, and knicknacks. A pair of dirty gloves marred the splendour of this appearance; a heap of books from the library strewed the back seat of the carriage, and showed that her habits were literary. Springing down from his station behind his mistress, the youth clad in the nether garments of red sammit discharged thunderclaps on the door of Mrs. Newcome's house, announcing to the whole square that his mistress had returned to her abode. Since the fort saluted the governor-general at ––, Colonel Newcome had never heard such a cannonading.

Clive, with a queer twinkle of his eyes, ran towards his aunt. She bent over the carriage languidly towards him. She liked him. »What, you, Clive!« she said. »How come you away from school of a Thursday, sir?«

»It is a holiday,« says he. »My father is come; and he is come to see you.«

She bowed her head with an expression of affable surprise and majestic satisfaction. »Indeed, Clive!« she was good enough to exclaim, and with an air which seemed to say, »Let him come up and be presented to me.« The honest gentleman stepped forward and took off his hat and bowed, and stood bareheaded. She surveyed him blandly, and with infinite grace put forward one of the pudgy little hands in one of the dirty gloves. Can you fancy a twopenny-halfpenny baroness of King Francis's time patronizing Bayard? Can you imagine Queen Guinevere's lady's-maid's lady's-maid being affable to Sir Lancelot? I protest there is nothing like the virtue of English women.

»You have only arrived to-day, and you came to see me? That was very kind. N'est-ce pas que c'étoit bong de Mouseer le Collonel, Mademoiselle? Madamaselle Lebrun le Collonel Newcome, mong frère. (In a whisper, »My children's governess and my friend, a most superior woman.«) »Was it not kind of Colonel Newcome to come to see me? Have you had a pleasant voyage? Did you come by St. Helena? Oh, how I envy you seeing the tomb of that great man! Nous parlong de Napolleong, Mademoiselle, dong voter père a été le Général favvory.«

»O Dieu! que n'ai-je pu le voir,« interjaculates Mademoiselle. »Lui dont parle l'univers, dont mon père m'a si souvent parlé?« but this remark passes quite unnoticed by Mademoiselle's friend, who continues, –

»Clive, donnez-moi voter bras. These are two of my girls. My boys are at school. I shall be so glad to introduce them to their uncle. This naughty boy might never have seen you, but that we took him home to Marble Head, after the scarlet fever, and made him well, didn't we, Clive? And we are all very fond of him; and you must not be jealous of his love for his aunt. We feel that we quite know you through him, and we know that you know us; and we hope you will like us. Do you think your papa will like us, Clive? Or perhaps you will like Lady Ann best.