Colonel Martindale had no escape from the head of the table and the eldest of the Misses Marstone. Resigning himself to his fate, he made talk; and, though now broader, redder, and somewhat coarser in feature and complexion than he had been a few years ago, he looked so gay and unencumbered, that his neighbour speculated as to whether he could be the eldest son, and resolved to discover what her sister, Sarah Theresa, knew of him.
‘It is so pleasant when friends meet unexpectedly,’ said she. ‘I did not know you were acquainted with either of our guests.’
‘Miss Brandon is a near neighbour of my father, and a great friend of Mrs. Martindale.’
Death to any incipient scheme of Miss Marstone; but she smiled on, and remarked, ‘A very amiable girl, and a beautiful place, is it not, Rickworth?’
‘Very pretty, a fine property,’ said Arthur, talking as if in his sleep, for he had caught Mark Gardner’s voice saying something about an oratory.
‘My sister is often staying there,’ proceeded the lady. ‘You know Miss Brandon’s scheme of restoring the Priory?’
‘I did not know that was anything more than talk.’
‘I used to think so,’ said Miss Marstone; ‘but both she and my sister Sarah treat it quite seriously, and Mr. Gardner is their prime counsellor.’
Arthur started, and with difficulty refrained from laughing.
‘Ah! I believe he has been a little wild, but that is all over now. He has taken quite a different turn now, and given up everything of that sort—throws himself into all their views.’