‘That I could never bear to be, mamma,’ said Emma; ‘but Theresa is of a firmer, less shrinking mould.’
Lady Elizabeth repeated that she was a very superior person, but was evidently not happy in her guest.
Miss Marstone was holding earnest tete-a-tetes all the evening, but Violet having sheltered herself under Lady Elizabeth’s wing, escaped the expected lecture on the allegories.
When the Rickworth party had taken leave, Mr. Wingfield, the last guest, was heard to observe that Miss Marstone was an admirable person, a treasure to any parish.
‘Do you wish for such a treasure in your own?’ said Mr. Fotheringham, bluntly.
The curate shook his head, and murmuring something about Brogden being already as fortunate as possible, departed in his turn: while Arthur ejaculated, ‘There’s a step, Wingfield. Why, Theodora, he was setting up a rival.’
‘Who is she?’ said Theodora. ‘Where did Emma pick her up?’
‘Emma was struck with her appearance—’
The gentlemen all exclaimed so vehemently, that Violet had to repeat
it again, whereupon Mr. Fotheringham muttered, ‘Every one to his taste;’
and Arthur said there ought to be a law against women making themselves
greater frights than nature designed.
‘So, it is a fit of blind enthusiasm,’ said John.