There was a rustle under the boughs of the old hollow-hearted pollard-tree.
“Ha, ha! Hark! I said that so loud that I have startled the ravens!”
“How he did love her!” said Mrs. Avenel, thoughtfully. “I am sure he did; and no wonder, for she looks every inch a lady; and why should not she be my lady, after all?”
“He? Who? Oh, that foolish fancy of yours about my young Lord? A prudent woman like you!—stuff! I am glad my little beauty is gone to Lonnon, out of harm’s way.”
“John, John, John! No harm could ever come to my Nora. She ‘s too pure and too good, and has too proper a pride in her, to—”
“To listen to any young lords, I hope,” said John; “though,” he added, after a pause, “she might well be a lady too. My Lord, the young one, took me by the hand so kindly the other day, and said, ‘Have not you heard from her—I mean Miss Avenel—lately?’ and those bright eyes of his were as full of tears as—as—as yours are now.”
“Well, John, well; go on.”
“That is all. My Lady came up, and took me away to talk about the election; and just as I was going, she whispered, ‘Don’t let my wild boy talk to you about that sweet girl of yours. We must both see that she does not come to disgrace.’ ‘Disgrace!’ that word made me very angry for the moment. But my Lady has such a way with her that she soon put me right again. Yet, I do think Nora must have loved my young Lord, only she was too good to show it. What do you say?” And the father’s voice was thoughtful.
“I hope she’ll never love any man till she’s married to him; it is not proper, John,” said Mrs. Avenel, somewhat starchly, though very mildly.
“Ha, ha!” laughed John, chucking his prim wife under the chin, “you did not say that to me when I stole your first kiss under that very pollard-tree—no house near it then!”