passive fingers, which were too shy and frightened to return the
pressure.

Mr. Lyddell came in, and while his wife was engaged in speaking to him,
Marian had time to make her observations, for the chilling embarrassment
of her manner had repelled the attentions of her cousins. Though she had
never seen them before, she knew enough about them to be able to fit the
names to the persons she saw before her, and make a few conjectures as
to how she would like them.

That youth in the odd-looking, rough, shapeless coat, yet with a certain
expensive, fashionable air about the rest of his dress, who stood
leaning against the chimney-piece in a nonchalant attitude, was
her eldest cousin, Elliot Lyddell. The other, a great contrast in
appearance, small, slender, and pale, with near-sighted spectacles
over his weak, light grey eyes, dressed with scrupulous precision and
quietness, who had retreated to the other end of the room and taken up
a book, was Walter. The elder girl, Caroline, was about fifteen, a very
pleasing likeness of her mother, with a brilliant complexion, bright
blue eyes, and a remarkably lively and pleasant smile, which Marian was
so much taken with, that she wished she could have found something to
say, but the dress and air both gave her the appearance of being older
than Agnes, and thus made Marian feel as if she was a great way above
and beyond her. The other sister had a fair, pretty face, much more
childish, with beautiful glossy light hair, and something sweet and
gentle in her expression, and Marian felt warmly towards her because she
was her mother's god-child, and bore the same name.

The younger boys, Lionel and John, were nice-looking little fellows of
nine and seven. They had drawn towards Walter, gazing all the time at