a month of her childhood in Wiltshire, and had made of Elinor an
exacting friend, always ready to take offence, and to remain jealous and
sulky for days if one of her sisters, or any other little girl, engaged
her cousin's attention long. On the other hand, Elinor's attachment was
idolatrous in its intensity; and as Marian was sweet-tempered, and more
apt to fear that she had disregarded Elinor's feelings than to take
offence at her waywardness, their friendship endured after they were
parted. Their promises of correspondence were redeemed by Elinor with
very long letters at uncertain intervals, and by Marian with shorter
epistles notifying all her important movements. Marian, often called
upon to defend her cousin from the charge of being a little shrew, was
led to dwell upon her better qualities. Elinor found in Marian what she
had never found at her own home, a friend, and in her uncle's house a
refuge from that of her father, which she hated. She had been Marian's
companion for four years when the concert took place at Wandsworth.

Next day they were together in the drawing-room at Westbourne Terrace:
Marian writing, Elinor at the pianoforte, working at some technical
studies, to which she had been incited by the shortcoming of her
performance on the previous night. She stopped on hearing a bell ring.

"What o'clock is it?" she said, after listening a moment. "Surely it is
too early for a visit."

"It is only half past two," replied Marian. "I hope it is not anybody. I
have not half finished my correspondence."

"If you please, Miss," said a maid, entering, "Mr. Douglas wants to see
you, and he wont come up."