Marian walked to the nearest point of Camden Road, and there waited for an omnibus, which conveyed her to within easy reach of the street where Maud and Dora Milvain had their lodgings. This was at the north-east of Regent's Park, and no great distance from Mornington Road, where Jasper still dwelt.
On learning that the young ladies were at home and alone, she ascended to the second floor and knocked.
'That's right!' exclaimed Dora's pleasant voice, as the door opened and the visitor showed herself And then came the friendly greeting which warmed Marian's heart, the greeting which until lately no house in London could afford her.
The girls looked oddly out of place in this second-floor sitting-room, with its vulgar furniture and paltry ornaments. Maud especially so, for her fine figure was well displayed by the dress of mourning, and her pale, handsome face had as little congruence as possible with a background of humble circumstances.
Dora impressed one as a ******r nature, but she too had distinctly the note of refinement which was out of harmony with these surroundings. They occupied only two rooms, the sleeping-chamber being double-bedded; they purchased food for themselves and prepared their own meals, excepting dinner. During the first week a good many tears were shed by both of them; it was not easy to transfer themselves from the comfortable country home to this bare corner of lodgers' London. Maud, as appeared at the first glance, was less disposed than her sister to make the best of things; her countenance wore an expression rather of discontent than of sorrow, and she did not talk with the same readiness as Dora.
On the round table lay a number of books; when disturbed, the sisters had been engaged in studious reading.
'I'm not sure that I do right in coming again so soon,' said Marian as she took off her things. 'Your time is precious.'
'So are you,' replied Dora, laughing. 'It's only under protest that we work in the evening when we have been hard at it all day.'
'We have news for you, too,' said Maud, who sat languidly on an uneasy chair.
'Good, I hope?'
'Someone called to see us yesterday. I dare say you can guess who it was.'
'Amy, perhaps?'
'Yes.'
'And how did you like her?'
The sisters seemed to have a difficulty in answering. Dora was the first to speak.
'We thought she was sadly out of spirits. Indeed she told us that she hasn't been very well lately. But I think we shall like her if we come to know her better.'
'It was rather awkward, Marian,' the elder sister explained. 'We felt obliged to say something about Mr Reardon's books, but we haven't read any of them yet, you know, so I just said that Ihoped soon to read his new novel. "I suppose you have seen reviews of it?" she asked at once. Of course I ought to have had the courage to say no, but I admitted that I had seen one or two -- Jasper showed us them. She looked very much annoyed, and after that we didn't find much to talk about.'
'The reviews are very disagreeable,' said Marian with a troubled face. 'I have read the book since I saw you the other day, and Iam afraid it isn't good, but I have seen many worse novels more kindly reviewed.'
'Jasper says it's because Mr Reardon has no friends among the journalists.'
'Still,' replied Marian, 'I'm afraid they couldn't have given the book much praise, if they wrote honestly. Did Amy ask you to go and see her?'
'Yes, but she said it was uncertain how long they would be living at their present address. And really. we can't feel sure whether we should be welcome or not just now.'
Marian listened with bent head. She too had to make known to her friends that they were not welcome in her own home; but she knew not how to utter words which would sound so unkind.
'Your brother,' she said after a pause, 'will soon find suitable friends for you.'
'Before long,' replied Dora, with a look of amusement, 'he's going to take us to call on Mrs Boston Wright. I hardly thought he was serious at first, but he says he really means it.'
Marian grew more and more silent. At home she had felt that it would not be difficult to explain her troubles to these sympathetic girls, but now the time had come for speaking, she was oppressed by shame and anxiety. True, there was no absolute necessity for ****** the confession this evening, and if she chose to resist her father's prejudice, things might even go on in a seemingly natural way. But the loneliness of her life had developed in her a sensitiveness which could not endure situations such as the present; difficulties which are of small account to people who take their part in active social life, harassed her to the destruction of all peace. Dora was not long in noticing the dejected mood which had come upon her friend.
'What's troubling you, Marian?'
'Something I can hardly bear to speak of. Perhaps it will be the end of your friendship for me, and I should find it very hard to go back to my old solitude.'
The girls gazed at her, in doubt at first whether she spoke seriously.
'What can you mean?' Dora exclaimed. 'What crime have you been committing?'
Maud, who leaned with her elbows on the table, searched Marian's face curiously, but said nothing.
'Has Mr Milvain shown you the new number of The Current?' Marian went on to ask.
They replied with a negative, and Maud added:
'He has nothing in it this month, except a review.'
'A review?' repeated Marian in a low voice.
'Yes; of somebody's novel.'
'Markland's,' supplied Dora.
Marian drew a breath, but remained for a moment with her eyes cast down.
'Do go on, dear,' urged Dora. 'Whatever are you going to tell us?'
'There's a notice of father's book,' continued the other, 'a very ill-natured one; it's written by the editor, Mr Fadge. Father and he have been very unfriendly for a long time. Perhaps Mr Milvain has told you something about it?'
Dora replied that he had.
