"And is he really a poor fellow?"
"On the contrary, he is rich; but his life has been spoiled, he has no fixed home; Shandmere is let. Years ago he made an unfortunate marriage: after a few months of cat-and-dog life, he and his wife parted, he has no near relatives, or ties, and spends his time rambling about the world."
"One of the idle rich?"
"Idle rich yourself! Dudley is always intensely occupied; in pursuit of new schemes, the development of a voice, or some literary undertaking. He is a charming fellow, so popular, and remarkably handsome!"
"I'm simply dying to see him," exclaimed Nancy.
"Do not die just yet; I'll send him a little note, and ask him to look me up as soon as he returns. I thought he was in Greece, but Italy always draws him. His grandmother was an Italian, one of an ancient Roman family, and from her, he has inherited his graceful manners, and taste for art. She has also bequeathed him her olive skin, and matchless dark eyes."
"I don't believe I can possibly wait until he calls," said Nancy. "I think I shall go down, and hang about the hall."
"Oh, you may laugh, my dear, but you won't make such an acquaintance as Dudley, in a month of Sundays. He is one of my boys—although he is getting on for forty—and a particular favourite."
"So I see."
"And not without good reason; Dudley is so attentive and thoughtful, to an old woman. His tender solicitude is quite touching! For instance, he never forgets my birthday; he knows my tastes in flowers, and books, and people; remembers my likes and dislikes, the little remedies I use,—and how I hate sugar, and adore asparagus. Besides all this, I am his godmother, and since his dear mother is gone, I think he is a little inclined to look to me."