“And it was,” resumed she, “in some sort the contrast presented to such which pleased me in that young man's manner yesterday. Not but I feel assured that erelong you and Miss Martin will spoil him.”
“I! aunt?” said Mary, looking up from her work; “how am I to exercise the evil influence you speak of?”
“By the notice—the interest you vouchsafe him, Miss Martin,—the most flattering compliment to one in his station.”
“If he bears collegiate honors so meekly, aunt,” said Mary, quietly, “don't you think his head might sustain itself under my attentions?”
“Possibly so, young lady, if not accompanied by the accessories of your rank in life,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily; “and as to college honors,” added she, after a pause, “they are like school distinctions, of no earthly value out of the class-room.”
“Faith, I don't know that,” said Martin. “At least, in my own experience, I can say, every fellow that has made a figure in life gave indications of high ability in his college years. I could go over the names of at least a dozen.”
“Pray don't, sir,—spare your memory, and spare us. Miss Martin and I will take it for granted that this young man is destined to be Lord Chancellor,—Ambassador at St. Petersburg,—or anything else you please. I have no doubt that the time is approaching when such things are very possible.”
“It has come already, my Lady,” said Martin; and in the manner he uttered the words there was no saying whether the sentiment was pleasurable or the reverse.
“And yet I trust that there is a little interval still left to us ere that consummation,” said she, with pretentious dignity. “Birth and blood have not lost all their prestige!”
“But they soon would,” said Mary, “if they feared to enter the lists against those less well-born than themselves.”