“Never mind, Ethel,” said Flora. “I shall meet Sir Henry Walkinghame in London, and will talk to him. We shall yet astonish the muses. If we can get the land without them, we shall be able to manage it our own way, without obligations.”
“You forget the money!”
“We will keep them from dissipating it—or that might be no harm! A hundred pounds will be easily found, and we should then have it in our own hands. Besides, you know, I don’t mean to give up. I shall write a polite note to Mrs. Ledwich, begging to subscribe on my own account, and to retain my seat! and you will see what we shall do.”
“You mean to come down with the external authority,” said Ethel, smiling.
“True! and though my driving in with a pair of horses may make little difference to you, Ethel, depend upon it, Mrs. Ledwich will be the more amenable. Whenever I want to be particularly impressive, I shall bring in that smelling-bottle, with the diamond stopper that won’t come out, and you will find that carries all before it.”
“A talisman!” said Ethel, laughing. “But I had rather they yielded to a sense of right!”
“So had I,” said Flora. “Perhaps you will rule them that way?”
“Not I!” cried Ethel, terrified.
“Then you must come to me, and secondary motives. Seriously—I do mean that George should do something for Stoneborough; and, in a position of influence, I hope to be able to be useful to my poor old town. Perhaps we shall have the minster restored.”
Flora did wish it. She did love Stoneborough, and was sincerely interested for Cocksmoor. She thought she worked earnestly for them, and that her situation would be turned to their profit; but there was something for which she worked more earnestly. Had Flora never heard of the two masters whom we cannot serve at the same time?