The Quiet Gentleman

Chapter 8

It was Martin who offered to be the bearer, on the following morning, of polite messages of condolence from his mother to Lady Bolderwood. He returned to Stanyon with no very encouraging tidings. Dr. Malpas had given it as his opinion that Sir Thomas’s disorder was indeed the influenza, and since Sir Thomas was of a bronchial habit he had strictly forbidden him to leave his bed for several days, much less his house. Marianne did not despair, however, of being able to attend the ball, for her Mama had promised that she would not scruple, unless Sir Thomas should become very much worse, to leave old Nurse in charge of the sick-room while she chaperoned her daughter to Stanyon.

But the following morning brought a servant from Whissenhurst to Stanyon, with a letter for the Dowager from Marianne. It was a primly-worded little note, but a blister on the sheet betrayed that tears had been shed over it. The writer regretted that, owing to the sudden indisposition of her Mama, it would be out of her power to come to Stanyon on the following evening. In fact, Lady Bolderwood had fallen a victim to the influenza.

The Dowager, in announcing these tidings, said that it was very shocking; but it was plain that she considered the Bolderwoods more to be commiserated than the Stanyon party. They would no doubt soon recover from the influenza, but they would have missed being amongst the guests at Stanyon, which she thought a privation not so readily to be recovered from. “How sorry they will be!” she said. “They would have liked it excessively.”

“It is the most curst thing!” Martin cried. “It ruins everything!”

“Yes, indeed, my dear, I am extremely vexed,” agreed the Dowager. “We shall now have two more gentlemen than ladies, and I daresay it will be quite uncomfortable. I warned your brother how it would be.”

It was not to be expected that this point of view would be much appreciated by either of her sons. Each felt that if Marianne were not to grace it the ball might as well be cancelled. Nothing but languor and insipidity could now lie before them.

“I wonder,” said Miss Morville, after glancing from Martin’s face to St. Erth’s, “if the difficulty might not perhaps be overcome?”

“I am sure, my dear Drusilla, I do not know whom we could prevail upon to come to the ball at such short notice,” replied the Dowager. “No doubt the Dearhams would accept an invitation with alacrity, and bless themselves for their good fortune, but I consider them pushing and vulgar, and if St. Erth expects me to entertain them I must say at once that it is out of the question that I should do so.”

“I have not the slightest desire to invite the Dearhams, whoever they may be,” said the Earl, rather impatiently.

“I should think not indeed!” Martin said. “The Dearhams in place of Miss Bolderwood! That would be coming it a little too strong, ma’am! Nobody cares if there are too many men: the thing is that if Marianne doesn’t come I for one would rather we postponed the ball!”

Miss Morville made herself heard again, speaking with a little diffidence, but with all her usual good sense. “I was going to suggest, ma’am, that, if you should not dislike it, Marianne might be invited to stay at Stanyon for a day or two, while her parents are confined to their beds. It must be sad work for her at Whissenhurst with no one to bear her company all day. You may depend upon it she is not even permitted the comfort of being able to attend to her Mama. They take such care of her, you know, that I am very sure she is not allowed to enter the sick-room.”

“By Jupiter, the very thing!” Martin exclaimed, his face lighting up.

“Miss Morville, you are an excellent creature!” Gervase said, smiling gratefully at her. “I don’t know where we should be without your sage counsel!”

The Dowager naturally saw a great many objections to a scheme not of her own devising, but after she had stated these several times, and had been talked to soothingly by Miss Morville and vehemently by her son, she began to think that it might not be so very bad after all. The Earl having the wisdom not to put forward any solicitations of his own, it was not long before she perceived a number of advantages to the plan. Martin would have the opportunity to enjoy Marianne’s society, Drusilla would have the benefit of her companionship, and the Bolderwoods would doubtless think themselves very much obliged to their kind neighbour. Such benevolent reflections put her ladyship into good-humour, and she needed little persuasion to induce her to say that she would drive to Whissenhurst that very day, and bring Marianne back with her.

It then became necessary to discuss exhaustively the rival merits of her ladyship’s chaise and her landaulet as a means of conveyance. From this debate the gentlemen withdrew in good order; and the Dowager, having weighed the chances of rain against the certainty of one of the passengers being obliged to sit forward, if she went to Whissenhurst in her chaise (“For there will be the maid to be conveyed, you know, and I should not care to go without you to bear me company, my dear Drusilla!”), decided in favour of the landaulet. Martin then very nobly offered to escort the ladies on their perilous journey, riding beside the carriage; and all that remained to be done was to decide whether the Dowager should wrap herself in her sables, or in her ermine stole. Even this ticklish point was settled; and midway through the afternoon the party was ready to set out, the only delay being caused by the Dowager’s last-minute decision to carry a genteel basket of fruit from the succession-houses to the sufferers. “One would not wish to be backward in any attention,” she explained. “To be sure, we have very little fruit at this period of the year, but I daresay St. Erth will not miss one each of his peaches and apricots and nectarines. I have directed Calne to fill up the basket with some of our apples, which I daresay Lady Bolderwood will be very glad to have, for the Stanyon apples, you know, are particularly good.”

Miss Morville encouraging her to suppose that St. Erth would be only too happy to sacrifice his fruit to the Bolderwoods, she was then ready to depart. The two ladies took their seats in the landaulet; a footman tenderly laid a rug about their knees; the basket of fruit was disposed upon the forward seat; Martin swung himself into the saddle of his good-looking bay hack; and the cavalcade set forth.

The way was beguiled by the Dowager in extolling her vicarious generosity in giving away her stepson’s fruit, in calling upon Miss Morville to admire her son’s admirable appearance on horseback, and in discovering that the bulbs in the various gardens which they passed on the road were not as far forward as those at Stanyon. They arrived at Whissenhurst in good time, without having been obliged to rely upon Martin’s gallantry to rescue them from footpads or highwaymen, and were received there by Marianne, who came running out of the house at sight of the landaulet, and expressed her sense of obligation for the condescension shown her in such warm terms as served to convince her ladyship that she was a very pretty-behaved young woman, worthy to match with her son. A brief explanation of her purpose in coming to Whissenhurst Grange was enough to throw Marianne into ecstasies. It was as Miss Morville had supposed: solicitude for her well-being had compelled Lady Bolderwood to forbide her most strictly to enter either sick-room. She had nothing to do but to regret the misfortune which prevented her from gracing the Stanyon ball.

The only difficulty was, how to obtain Lady Bolderwood’s consent to so delightful a scheme? Nurse was so cross she would be of no assistance: Marianne did not know what was to be done. Happily, Miss Morville was unafraid of the dangers attaching to sick-rooms, and she alighted from the landaulet with the express purpose of visiting Lady Bolderwood. The Dowager then permitted Marianne to escort her to the shrubbery, which she had the happiness of discovering to be not so extensive as that at Stanyon; and in a little while Miss Morville rejoined her with the welcome intelligence that Lady Bolderwood was most grateful to her for her kind thought, and would be pleased to allow her daughter to sojourn at Stanyon while she was confined to her chamber.

This was not strictly accurate. It did not quite suit Lady Bolderwood’s nice sense of propriety that Marianne should make her first appearance at a formal ball unattended by herself, but against the decree of her husband she was powerless to resist. He could perceive nothing in the invitation that was not agreeable. They might entrust their treasure to Lady St. Erth’s care with quiet minds; and how shocking a thing it would be to deny her this pleasure from some nonsensical scruple! He did not like to think of her moping about the house in solitude: he would be happy to know that she was being so well entertained, and in such unexceptionable hands. To find herself amongst a company of exalted persons would put her into excellent training for her coming London Season: he could not imagine what his Maria could find amiss in such a scheme. Lady Bolderwood acquiesced, therefore, her maternal agitation finding its only expression in the urgent messages which she charged Nurse to deliver to Marianne. These ranged from reminders of the conduct to be expected of debutantes, to the sum of money it would be proper to bestow upon the maidservant who waited on her, and the ornaments which she should wear with her ball-dress. Marianne’s maid, overjoyed at such an enlargement to her horizon, began to pack a number of trunks and band-boxes, the only alloy to her delight being the gloomily expressed conviction of Sir Thomas’s second footman that her pleasure had its root in the expectation of receiving the addresses of all the libertines employed at the Castle.

Marianne’s own happiness knew no other bounds than regret that her Mama could not make one of the party. Had she been permitted to do so, she would have rendered her parents’ malady still more hideous by smoothing their pillows, coaxing them to swallow bowls of gruel, and begging them to tell her, just as they were dropping into sleep, if there was anything she could do for them to make them more comfortable; but this solace had been denied her, so that she could not believe herself to be necessary to them. Her Papa bade her go to Stanyon and enjoy herself; her Mama, endorsing this command, only added a warning that she should conduct herself modestly; and as she had not the smallest inclination to go beyond the bounds of propriety she had nothing to do but to thank Lady St. Erth again and again for her exceeding kindness, and to prepare for several days of unsullied amusement. Her transports led her to embrace the Dowager, an impulsive action which, though it startled that lady, by ,no means displeased her. “A very good-hearted girl,” she told Miss Morville, when Marianne had run away to put on her hat and her pelisse. “I am glad that I had the happy notion of inviting her to stay at Stanyon.”

Miss Morville assented to it with great calmness. She did not feel it incumbent upon her to disclose to the Dowager the anxious qualms with which Lady Bolderwood parted from her daughter; but the truth was that the invitation was by no means welcome to Lady Bolderwood. While agreeing with Sir Thomas that her indisposition condemned Marianne to several days of solitary boredom, she still could not like her going alone to such a party as was contemplated at Stanyon. Sir Thomas said that their little puss could be trusted to keep the line; she could place no such dependence on the discretion of an eighteen-year-old girl, nor had she much faith in the Dowager’s capabilities as a chaperon. “Lady St. Erth,” she said, “is not the woman I should choose to entrust Marianne to!”

Miss Morville said that she would be at Stanyon, and would take care of Marianne.

“My dear,” said Lady Bolderwood, pressing her hand, “if it were not for that circumstance I could not bring myself to consent to such an arrangement! I should not say it, but I have no great liking for Lady St. Erth! Then, too, it has to be remembered that Marianne is an heiress, and if there is one thing above all others which I do not wish, it is to see her exposed to every gazetted fortune-hunter in England! She is too innocent to detect mere flattery; and even were Lady St. Erth the best-natured woman alive, which I do not scruple to assert she is not,it would be unreasonable to expect her to guard a young girl as her own mother would!”

Miss Morville, who had written all the invitations for the Dowager, said that she did not think that Marianne would encounter any fortune-hunters at Stanyon. She added that the ball would be quite a small one, and that the guests, for the most part, were already known to Lady Bolderwood. With this assurance the anxious mother had to be content. She sent a loving message of farewell to Marianne; and Marianne, who anticipated no attacks, either upon her expectations or upon her virtue, danced out to the landaulet, with her eyes and her cheeks aglow with happiness. She looked so pretty, in a swansdown-trimmed bonnet and pelisse, that Martin caught his breath at sight of her.

So, too, a little later, did Lord Ulverston.

After his first rapture at the thought of having Marianne to stay at Stanyon was abated a little, it had occurred to Martin that the visit would afford his half-brother many undesirable opportunities for flirtation. It had not occurred to him that he might find a rival in Lord Ulverston, for although his lordship certainly drove a magnificent team of horses, wore the coveted insignia of the Whip Club, and showed himself in all respects a man of fashion, he was not handsome, and his figure, seen beside any one of the three Frants, was not imposing. Martin, who stood over six foot in his bare feet, thought of him as a little on the squat. He was, in fact, of medium height and compact build; and if his features were not classical his smile was engaging, and his address considerable. It almost deserted him at the dazzling sight which met his eyes, but he made a quick recover, and sprang forward to hand Marianne out of the carriage before Martin had dismounted, and long before the Dowager had performed the proper introductions.

Since the dinner-hour at Stanyon was at half-past six, Miss Morville lost no time in escorting Marianne to her bedchamber, a pleasant room next to her own, with a modern, barred grate, and a comfortable tent-bed. Marianne, looking about her at the flowered wallpaper, and all the evidences of up-to-date taste, seemed a little disappointed, and confided that she had expected to find herself in a panelled room, with a four-poster bed, and a powder-closet.

“Well, it could be arranged for you to sleep in one of the panelled rooms,” said Miss Morville. “Only it will set you at a little distance from me, and I had thought you would prefer to be near me.”

Marianne assured her that she would not change her room for the world. “I thought all the rooms were panelled!” she explained. “Is not the Castle of vast antiquity?”

“Oh, not this part of it!” said Miss Morville. “I think it was built at the time of Charles II. I fancy that not much of the original Castle still remains. If you are interested in antiquities, you should ask Theo Frant to take you over the whole building: he knows all about it.”

“Is it haunted?” breathed Marianne, in delightful trepidation.

“Oh, no, nothing of that sort!” Miss Morville said reassuringly. She then perceived that she had given the wrong answer, and added: “At least, it may be, but I am not at all fanciful, you know, and I daresay I might not be conscious of the supernatural.”

“Oh, but, Drusilla, if a spectre without a head were to walk the corridors, or a female form in gray draperies, surely you would be conscious of it!” cried Marianne, much shocked.

“If I saw a female form in gray draperies I should take it for Lady St. Erth,” said Miss Morville apologetically. “She has a gray dressing-gown, you see. However, a headless spectre would certainly surprise me very much. Indeed, it would very likely give me a distaste for the Castle, so I hope I never shall see such an apparition.”

“Give you a distaste for the Castle! Oh no, how can you be so unromantic?” protested her youthful friend.

“To own the truth,” replied Miss Morville candidly, “I can perceive nothing romantic in a headless spectre. I should think it a very disagreeable sight, and if I did fancy I saw such a thing I should take one of Dr. James’s powders immediately!”

Marianne was obliged to laugh; but she shook her head as well, and was persuaded that her friend could not be serious.

Miss Morville then went to her own room, to change her dress, promising to discover from Theo if they might reasonably expect to see a horrid apparition in any part of the Castle. She returned presently to escort Marianne to the Long Drawing-room, and, finding her charmingly attired in sprigged muslin, strongly recommended her to wrap a shawl round her shoulders. Though the Castle might lack a ghost, she said, it was well-provided with draughts.

“Provoking creature!” Marianne pouted. “You are determined to be prosaic, but I shan’t attend to you!”

They found the rest of the party already assembled in the Long Drawing-room, gathered about a noble fire. The Earl came forward to draw the young ladies into the circle, and Marianne, with a droll look, complained of Drusilla’s insensibility. “But she says that I must ask you,Mr. Frant, for the history of Stanyon, and you will tell it all to me — all about the secret dungeons, and the oubliette, and the ghost!”

Theo smiled, but replied ruefully that he could offer her neither ghost nor oubliette. “And I hardly dare to tell you that the dungeons were converted many years ago into wine cellars!” he confessed. “As for ghosts, I never heard of one here, did you, Gervase?”

“None beyond the shade that flits across the Fountain Court, weeping, and wringing its hands,” the Earl replied, with a composed countenance.

Marianne clasped her own hands together, and fixed her eyes on his face. “Oh, no! Do you mean it? And is that the only ghost? Does it not enter the Castle?”

“I have never known it to do so,” he said truthfully. “Of course, we have not put you in the Haunted Room — that would never do! The noise of clanking chains would make it impossible for you to sleep, and the groans, you know, are dreadful to hear. You will not be disturbed by anything of that nature, I hope. And if you should happen to hear the sound of a coach-and-four under your window at midnight pay no heed!”

“For shame, Gervase!” exclaimed Theo, laughing, as Marianne gave an involuntary shudder.”

“What is that you are saying, St. Erth?” called the Dowager, breaking off her conversation with Ulverston. “You are talking a great deal of nonsense! If any such thing were to happen I would be excessively displeased, for Calne has orders to lock the gates every night.”

“Ah, ma’am, but what can locked gates avail against a phantom?”

“Phantom! Let me assure you that we have nothing of that sort at Stanyon! I should not countenance it; I do not approve of the supernatural.”

Her disapproval was without its effect, the gentlemen continuing to tease Marianne with accounts of spectres, and Martin achieving a decided success with a very horrid monkish apparition, which, when it raised its head, was seen to have only a skull under its cowl. “It is known as the Black Monk of Stanyon,” he informed Marianne. “It — it appears only to the head of the house, and then as a death-warning!”

She turned her eyes involuntarily towards Gervase. “Oh, no!” she said imploringly, hardly knowing whether to be horrified or diverted. “You are not serious!”

“Hush!” he said, in an earnest tone. “Martin should not have disclosed to you the Secret of Stanyon: we never speak of it! It is a very dreadful sight.”

“Well, I don’t know how you should know that,”remarked Miss Morville, a good deal amused. “You cannot have seen it, after all!”

“My dear Miss Morville, what makes you think so?”

“You are not dead!” she pointed out.

“Not yet!”struck in Ulverston, in sepulchral accents. “We cannot tell, however, when we may find him stiff in his bed, his fingers still clutching the bell-rope, and an expression on his face of the greatest terror!”

“No, no! Oh, you are roasting me! I do not believe it!” Marianne said faintly.

Her cheeks were quite blanched, and she could not resist the impulse to look over her shoulder. The Earl judged it to be time to have done, and to assure her that the Black Monk existed only in Martin’s imagination. The Dowager set Lord Ulverston right on a little misapprehension, telling him that the bell-rope in the Earl’s bedchamber hung beside the fireplace, and was out of reach of the bed. This was an inconvenience which she continued to deplore until dinner was announced; and as Miss Morville, rallied on her lack of sensibility, said that she could not be terrified by tales of skeletons, since these could only be produced by human contrivance, Marianne’s alarms were soon sufficiently dispelled to enable her to eat her dinner with a good appetite, and not to suppose that if she glanced behind her at the footman about to present a syllabub to her she would discover him to be a fleshless monk.

The Dowager’s benevolence had not led her to make any plans for the entertainment of her young guest, but when she discovered that the party numbered eight persons, she directed that a second card-table should be set up, so that those who did not play whist with her might enjoy a rubber of Casino. “Mr. Clowne, and my nephew, Mr. Theo Frant, will make up our table,” she informed Lord Ulverston. “You, I know, will prefer to play whist!”

The grace with which the Viscount accepted this decree was only equalled by the dexterity with which he convinced her ladyship that she would be better amused by a game of speculation. To her objection that she had never played the game, he responded that it would afford him delight to teach her. He seated himself on her right hand; and not even Martin, whose jealous disposition made him at all times suspicious, could decide whether it was by chance, or deep stratagem, that Marianne was placed on his other side. To her he largely devoted himself, cheating himself to enable her to win fish, and keep her in a ripple of laughter with his inconsequent chatter. Fortunately for the Dowager, Mr. Clowne, who sat on her left, considered that it behoved him to direct her bids; and since she was acquisitive by nature it was not long before she grasped the principles of the game, and was making some pretty shrewd bids on her own account.

Seldom had an evening at Stanyon passed more merrily. No one noticed the appearance of the tea-tray, and it was very nearly midnight before the party broke up.

On the following morning, an exercise in manoeuvres was won by the Earl, not, as his indignant friend told him, so much by superior strategy as by inner knowledge. The Viscount, suggesting that a riding-party should be formed, was countered by the Earl, who said that there was no horse in the stables accustomed to carrying a lady, and followed up this advantage by offering to let Miss Bolderwood drive his famous grays. Martin, only deterred from pressing the claims of his Troubadour as a safe lady’s hack by the recollection that the only lady’s saddle at Stanyon was on an antiquated design, quite unsuitable for Marianne’s use, owned himself to be very much obliged to Miss Morville, who ventured to suggest that her own riding-horse could easily be brought to Stanyon from Gilbourne House for Miss Bolderwood’s use.

It was of no avail. “Your horse shall of course be fetched, ma’am,” said the Earl, “but it is you who must ride him! I know Miss Bolderwood too well to indulge myself with the thought that she will set forth on any expedition while you remain at home!”

It was enough. Marianne declared that nothing would induce her to do so at the expense of her friend, and Miss Morville, who would have been happier to have attended to all the last-minute preparations for the evening’s ball, was obliged to form one of the party bound for Whissenhurst, to enquire after the progress of the invalids there.

The expedition, after a vain attempt to persuade Theo into joining it, consisted of Marianne and the Earl, in the curricle, accompanied by Miss Morville, Lord Ulverston, and Martin, upon horseback. Martin’s infatuation led him to stay as close to the curricle as the narrowness of the lanes permitted, but Lord Ulverston’s manners were too well-bred to allow of his following this example. He devoted himself to Miss Morville, and, through the accident of his having once read one of her Mania’s excellent novels when he was confined to bed with a bad chill and could find nothing else to his hand, contrived to maintain an animated conversation with her all the way to Whissenhurst.

Comfortable tidings having been received from old Nurse, every qualm was assuaged in Marianne’s breast. She need not think herself a renegade; she could be happy in the knowledge that her parents were much amended, and wished her well.

“You show great aptitude as a whip, Miss Bolderwood,” the Viscount told her, upon their leaving Whissenhurst Grange. “I have been observing you closely, and have derived no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. But St. Erth is not the man to teach you those niceties which you should know! Ger, dear boy, take my horse, and relinquish your place beside Miss Bolderwood to me! I will show her how to feather-edge a corner.”

“Yes, pray do!” Marianne said eagerly. “I collect that you are a member of the Four-Horse Club, and only think how I shall astonish Papa when I tell him that I have had a lesson from one of the first whips in the country!”

“My trick, I fancy, Ger!” murmured the Viscount, giving his bridle into St. Erth’s hand.

“The treachery of one’s friends affords food for much melancholy reflection,” retorted St. Erth. “I warn you, I shall come about, and my revenge may well terrify you!”

“I would not have yielded so tamely!” muttered Martin, as the Viscount mounted lightly into the curricle.

“I can believe it, but I think myself very well-placed,” replied his brother, swinging himself into the saddle. “That is a nice hack of yours, Miss Morville, and I fancy you have light hands. Do you hunt at all?”

She could not but be pleased with the good-breeding which not only kept him at her side, but prevented his emulating Martin’s example in trying to ride as close to the curricle as possible. He continued to converse with her like a man satisfied with his company; and upon finding an open farm gate, suggested that they should leave the lane for the refreshment of a canter through the fields. The crops, which were so far forward that year as to have put an early end to the hunting season, made it necessary for them to skirt the fields rather than to cross them, but they enjoyed an agreeable ride, and reached Stanyon some time before the rest of their party. The Earl hoped that the exertion would not have made Miss Morville too tired to stand up for every dance that evening, a civility which amused her, since she meant to spend the afternoon, not, as he seemed to suppose, in recruiting her energies for the night’s festivity, but in attending to all the details attaching to the entertainment of a large number of guests with which her hostess was a great deal too indolent to concern herself. Neither she nor the late Earl had been fond of entertaining, and since the marriage of their daughter no ball had been held at Stanyon. The housekeeper and the steward were thrown into a fluster by so rare an event, and although they enjoyed all the consequence of being called upon to provide for the accommodation of the ducal party from Belvoir, besides catering for the refreshment of some twenty persons at dinner, and forty more at supper, they were unaccustomed to such grand doings, and depended on Miss Morville, in default of their mistress, to advise on the number of rout-cakes it would be proper to bake; the propriety of serving tea and coffee at supper, as well as lemonade and champagne; and what apartments ought to be allotted to the several guests who were to spend the night at Stanyon. Then there were the musicians to be thought of: where they should be lodged, and whose duty it was to wait upon them; the arrangement of the flowers to superintend; the number of card-tables to be set up in the Italian Saloon to be decided on; and sufficient chairs to be disposed about the ballroom for those either desirous of watching the dancing, or unfortunate enough to have no partners.

The Earl, finding Miss Morville in conference with Abney, was a little conscience-stricken. “My dear ma’am, had I dreamed that all the labour of the ball was to fall upon you I would not have suggested we should give a ball at all! I should think you must bear me a considerable grudge!”

“No, indeed! I am happy to be of service, and this sort of contriving, you know, is exactly what I like.”

“You do it very well,” he said, looking about him at the flowers, and at the clean packs of cards laid ready on the several tables. “You remember all the details which I am very sure I must have forgotten.”

“Very likely you might,” she agreed. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must leave you. Lady St. Erth received an express from your sister this morning, informing her that she and Lord Grampound would be pleased to come to the party, and I find she has not told Mrs. Marple of it. I daresay her ladyship would wish to be given her former apartments, and we had arranged, you know, to put the Ashbournes in them.”

“Louisa coming!” he exclaimed. “Good God, what folly! Who can have invited her to undertake a journey of eighty miles for a ball of no particular consequence?”

“I don’t think anyone invited her,” replied Miss Morville, “but I expect Lady St. Erth may have mentioned that a ball was to be held here. That, if you will not mind my saying so, would be enough to bring her.”

“More than enough! She is the most tiresome, inquisitive woman of my acquaintance, I believe!”

“Her understanding is not powerful,” said Miss Morville, “nor are her manners such as must universally please, but she is not,I think, ill-natured, and although she may regret your existence, I fancy she does not dislike you, or even hold you to blame for being older than her brother.”

“I am very much obliged to her! This is something indeed!” he said sardonically.

She smiled, but would say no more; and upon the housekeeper’s looking into the room, went away to confer with her on the necessary alteration in the bedchambers.