‘Now, Lord Northmoor! You don’t mean to say that you intend to go on with that ridiculous affair; when, if you marry at all, it ought to be one who will bring something handsome into the family.’
‘Once for all, Emma, I will hear no more on that subject. A twenty years’ engagement is not lightly to be broken.’
‘A wretched little teacher,’ she began, but she was cut short.
‘Remember, I will hear no more of this, and’ (nothing but despair of other means could have
inspired him) ‘it is for your own interest to abstain from insulting my future wife and myself by such remonstrances.’
Even then she muttered, ‘Very hard! Not even good-looking.’
‘That is as one may think,’ said he, mentally contrasting the flaunting, hardened complexion before him with the sweet countenance he had never perceived to be pinched or faded; and as he heard something between a scornful sniff and a sob, he added, ‘I am wanted in the office, so, if you have no more to say of any consequence, I must leave you, and Hannah shall give you some tea.’
‘Oh, oh, that you should leave your poor brother’s widow in this way!’ and she melted into tears and sobs.
‘I can’t help it, Emma,’ he said, distressed and perplexed. ‘They want me about some business of Mr. Claughton’s, and I can’t keep them waiting. These are office hours, you know. Have some tea, and I will come to you again.’
But Mrs. Emma swallowed her sobs as soon as he was gone, and instead of waiting for the tea, set forth for Miss Lang’s. On asking for Miss Marshall she was shown into the drawing-room, where, after she had waited a few minutes, nursing her wrath to keep it warm, the small figure appeared, whom she had no hesitation in accosting thus—