“Not so much to my liking as Mr Winter.”
“I’m fain to hear it. Who else?”
“There is a Mr Percy, kin to my Lord Northumberland.”
Aunt Temperance drew in her breath with an inverted whistle. “Lo, you now, we are in select society!”
But Edith turned suddenly round. “Aubrey, is he a true Protestant?” She knew that Lord Northumberland was reckoned “the head of the recusants.”
“I really don’t know, Aunt,” replied Aubrey, to whom the idea had never before occurred. “I never heard him say aught whence I could guess it. He is a very agreeable man.”
“The more agreeable, maybe, the more dangerous. My boy, do have a care! ‘He that is not with Me is against Me.’”
“Oh, he’s all right, I am sure,” said Aubrey, carelessly.
“You seem sure on small grounds,” said Aunt Temperance. “Well, have we made an end?—is he the last?”
“No, there is one other—Mr Catesby.”