"I am sure all the women are much obliged to you for your good opinion, Mr. Humphries," said Harriet, fixing her brilliant eyes upon him, without the slightest appearance of irony in their expression; "it is a proof of your good sense not to follow in the common track of unmeaning abuse against our sex."
"Yes; that is what I think—there is no sense in it: and people who have mothers—and that—"
Mr. Humphries evidently thought his sentence complete; and Harriet, leaning over Margaret, whispered, "Mothers, and that:—to think that old Chaucer's delicate idea should have found its way into such a head, no wonder it comes out again rather garbled!"
Still Mr. Gage stood fronting Harriet, with his eyes fixed full upon her; and still she perversely avoided meeting his glance.
"We owe you a thousand thanks, Miss Markham," she said, turning graciously to that young lady, "for your accompaniment:—the second movement is no sinecure to play."
"I was very happy, I am sure, to be of any use," said Miss Markham, amiably.
"Perhaps you will be able to induce Mr. Humphries to give us 'Di pescator ignobile.' I forget who was your singing master, Mr. Humphries?"
"Oh! I learned when I was at Oxford of one of the choristers. I had three lessons a week all the time I was there; and glee meetings besides of an evening."
"All you ever did learn there, I'll engage!" whispered Harriet, as Mr. Humphries went to the piano.
Margaret looked anxiously at Harriet, and at Mr. Gage; she seemed so determined not to notice him, and he looked equally resolved to make her speak.