“Your lordship will pardon me,” Miss Blythe interposed, swiftly, “if I say that at my age—forgive me if I say at your lordship's also—the language of conventional gallantry is unbecoming.”
The little old lady said this with so starched and prim an air, and through this there peeped so obvious a satisfaction in rebuking him upon such a theme, that his lordship had to flourish his handkerchief from his pocket to hide his laughter.
“I have passed the last quarter of a century of my life,” pursued Miss Blythe, “in an intimate if humble capacity in the service of a family of the loftiest nobility. I am not unacquainted with the airs and graces of the higher powers, but between your lordship and myself, at our respective ages, I cannot permit them to be introduced.”
His lordship had a fit of coughing which lasted him two or three minutes, and brought the tears to his eyes. Most people might have thought that the cough bore a suspicious resemblance to laughter, but no such idea occurred to Miss Blythe.
“You are quite right, Miss Blythe,” said the old nobleman, when he could trust himself to speak. He was twitching and twinkling with suppressed mirth, but he contained himself heroically. “I beg your pardon, and I promise that I will not again transgress in that manner. But really, that—that—fit of coughing has quite exhausted me for the moment. May I beg your permission to sit down?”
“Certainly, my lord,” replied the little old lady, and in a bird-like fashion fluttered to the gate. It was not until she had reached the porch of the cottage that she became aware of the fact that the earl was following her. “Your lordship's pardon,” she said then; “I will bring your lordship a chair into the garden. I am alone,” she added, more prim and starched than ever, “and I have my reputation to consider.”
Miss Blythe entered the cottage and returned with a chair, which she planted on the gravelled pathway. The old nobleman sat down and took snuff, twitching and twinkling in humorous enjoyment.
“How long is it since you left us?” he asked. “It looks as if it were only yesterday.”
“I have been absent from Heydon Hay for more than a quarter of a century,” the little old lady answered.
“Ah!” said he, and for a full minute sat staring before him rather forlornly. He recovered himself with a slight shake and resumed the talk. “You maintain your reputation for cruelty, Miss Blythe?”