"It would be so pleasant!"
"Had you not better give Caroline a hint?"
"My love, she is so sensible, let her go her own way."
"You are right, my dear Betsy; I shall always say that no one has more common-sense than you; you have brought up your children admirably!"
"Dear Charles!"
"It is coldish to-night, love," said the rector; and he put out the candle.
From that time, it was not the fault of Mr. and Mrs. Merton if Lord
Doltimore did not find their house the pleasantest in the county.
One evening the rectory party were assembled together in the cheerful drawing-room. Cleveland, Mr. Merton, Sir John, and Lord Vargrave, reluctantly compelled to make up the fourth, were at the whist-table; Evelyn, Caroline, and Lord Doltimore were seated round the fire, and Mrs. Merton was working a footstool. The fire burned clear, the curtains were down, the children in bed: it was a family picture of elegant comfort.
Mr. Maltravers was announced.
"I am glad you are come at last," said Caroline, holding out her fair hand. "Mr. Cleveland could not answer for you. We are all disputing as to which mode of life is the happiest."