‘But I understood,’ said Coningsby, ‘when I left Paris,’ and here, he became very confused, ‘that Miss Millbank was engaged, on the point of marriage.’
‘With whom?’
‘Our friend Sidonia.’
‘I am sure that Edith would never marry Monsieur de Sidonia, nor Monsieur de Sidonia, Edith. ‘Tis a preposterous idea!’ said Lady Wallinger.
‘But he very much admired her?’ said Coningsby with a searching eye.
‘Possibly,’ said Lady Wallinger; ‘but he never even intimated his admiration.’
‘But he was very attentive to Miss Millbank?’
‘Not more than our intimate friendship authorised, and might expect.’
‘You have known Sidonia a long time?’
‘It was Monsieur de Sidonia’s father who introduced us to the care of Mr. Wallinger,’ said Lady Wallinger, ‘and therefore I have ever entertained for his son a sincere regard. Besides, I look upon him as a compatriot. Recently he has been even more than usually kind to us, especially to Edith. While we were at Paris he recovered for her a great number of jewels which had been left to her by her uncle in Spain; and, what she prized infinitely more, the whole of her mother’s correspondence which she maintained with this relative since her marriage. Nothing but the influence of Sidonia could have effected this. Therefore, of course, Edith is attached to him almost as much as I am. In short, he is our dearest friend; our counsellor in all our cares. But as for marrying him, the idea is ridiculous to those who know Monsieur Sidonia. No earthly consideration would ever induce him to impair that purity of race on which he prides himself. Besides, there are other obvious objections which would render an alliance between him and my niece utterly impossible: Edith is quite as devoted to her religion as Monsieur Sidonia can be to his race.’