“Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you out of it.”
“No fear of that, sir.” And she followed James.
He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the window, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, reading or working in the sun.
“Poor things!” she thought; “they are not so very miserable: perhaps God comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching would do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let me; they lean on the arm of flesh.”
Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and in came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning smile he had put on for conquest.
He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded.
At last he burst out, “Somer—Was it me you wished to see?”
“Yes,” said she, very kindly. “I came to see you for old acquaintance. You must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married.”
By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chair with ingratiating zeal.
“Sit down by me,” said she, as if she was petting a child. “Are you sure you remember me?”