"Never mind that, my dear son; and, Gilbert, remember an old watchword: 'He that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city.'"
"I know I do flare out at Maythorne sometimes; but then was there not a cause?"
"Ah! Gilbert, there is never a cause or an excuse for wrath indulged; indignation against wrong is one thing, rage against the wrong-doer another."
And now steps were heard in the hall, and Gratian's laugh. She threw open the door and said in a half-mocking tone:
"My Lord Maythorne."
Mrs. Arundel advanced to meet her brother, and greeted him kindly, but with no profession of extreme delight.
"Well, my dear sister," Lord Maythorne said, "I have taken Clifton en route to Plymouth, and wandering aimlessly on the Downs I met your fair visitor, my kinswoman, Gratian. What a quaint little snuggery you have got, Annabella, upon my word; and Gratian tells me my hopeful nephew is here, looking after his future prospects, eh? A little Methodism mixed with law, eh?" And Lord Maythorne produced an elegant gold snuff-box, tapped the lid, and took a delicate pinch between his forefinger and thumb, in the most approved fashion of the time.
"Ha! Gilbert, how do? Where is your cub, that you were leading about with such good intentions. Have you brought him to introduce to your mother, eh?" Waiting for no answer, and just touching Gilbert's hand with his finger tips, he went on:
"Have you dined, Annabella?"
"Long ago; we keep early hours."