“So I told Lord Culduff; but I promised him his recompense in the evening. You are coming to us to-morrow, ain't you?”
“I fear not. I think George made our excuses. We are to have Mr. Longworth and a French friend of his here with us.”
“You see, my Lord, what a gay neighborhood we have; here is a rival dinner-party,” said Marion.
“There's no question of a dinner; they come to tea, I assure you,” said Julia, laughing.
“No, my Lord, it's useless; quite hopeless. I assure you she 'll not sing for you of a morning.” This speech was addressed to Lord Culduff, as he was turning over some music-books on the piano.
“Have I your permission to look at these?” said he to Julia, as he opened a book of drawings in water-colors.
“Of course, my Lord. They are mere sketches taken in the neighorhood here, and, as you will see, very hurriedly done.”
“And have you such coast scenery as this?” asked he, in some astonishment, while he held up a rocky headland of several hundred feet, out of the caves at whose base a tumultuous sea was tumbling.
“I could show you finer and bolder bits than even that.”
“Do you hear, my Lord?” said Marion, in a low tone, only audible to himself. “The fair Julia is offering to be your guide. I 'm afraid it is growing late. One does forget time at this cottage. It was only the last day I came here I got scolded for being late at dinner.”