Lord Mucklebury, perfectly delighted by this brilliant proof of the versatility of her powers, gaily took her purse from her hand, and replacing the money in it, said—
"It is not so that I execute the commissions of my fair friends, Mrs. Barnaby.... I will note your orders in my pocket-book, thus.... 'A set of the handsomest shells in Rome for the charming Mrs. Barnaby. See!... I can hardly overlook it; and when I have the pleasure of presenting them, we will settle about the price."
He replaced her purse in her hand, which he kissed with his best air of Cheltenham gallantry; upon which she wisely rose, and saying, with every appearance of being perfectly satisfied with her reception, "Adieu, my lord! forgive my intrusion, and let me hope to have the pleasure of seeing you when you return," she took her departure, perfectly convinced that her new-born conjecture was right, and that lords had privileges not accorded to other men.
This persuasion, however, as well as the interview which gave rise to it, she determined to keep to her own breast; not sorry, perhaps, that some of her friends might go to their graves with the persuasion that, though deserted by him, she once had a nobleman for her lover, and vastly well satisfied with herself for having found out her plebeian blunder in time to prevent the loss of so very valuable a friend as she still thought Lord Mucklebury might be.
She returned in good time to rest and refresh herself with a draught of her favourite beverage (porter) before Mr. Morrison arrived.
If she had thought this gentleman worthy of some little agaceries before her definitive interview with her noble friend, she certainly did not think him less so afterwards, and the morning and the evening passed away with great appearance of enjoyment to both the gentleman and lady. Mrs. Barnaby began to think, as upon former occasions of the same kind, that it would be vastly more agreeable if Agnes were not of the party.
The same idea had occurred to the suffering girl herself more than once in the course of the day. Whether her own wish was father to the thought, or that her aunt had purposely permitted her feelings to be seen, it matters not to inquire; but when, on the following morning, Agnes complained of head-ache, and expressed a timid wish to be left at home, Mrs. Barnaby, without hesitation, replied,—
"I think you are right, Agnes.... You have no strength for that sort of thing ... so it is very lucky you brought your books, and you may unpack them, if you will, and set to work."
This release was hailed with thankfulness.... Lady Stephenson and Miss Peters were both written to during the leisure it afforded, and though she could give no very satisfactory intelligence to either, there was a pleasure in writing to them that no other occupation could give her.
After this time several days elapsed, during which Mrs. Barnaby was scarcely at home at all, except for the purpose of eating her dinner, which meal Mr. Morrison regularly partook with them.