"I'll try for it, Pen."
"I believe you must return to Lea, after all, Sally Hancock. Tom will be very angry: he can't endure your remarks."
"Fiddle diddle, I'll be very good, to-day: I will, indeed, Pen."
Christobelle lingered at the hall-door, to enjoy the cheering sight of the hounds, and to watch Tom Pynsent's enjoyment. When that display was lost to her view, she flew again into the drawing-room, and seated herself at Anna Maria's feet. Christobelle gazed at her sister, and fancied four months' absence had affected a change. Mrs. Tom Pynsent spoke with volubility, and her manner was less timid and pleasing. A very high colour was upon her once pale cheeks, and her eyes were unnaturally bright and sparkling: altogether, Christobelle thought her sister Pynsent very much changed. When she had again received a salutation from her lips, and a brief compliment upon her growth and appearance, Anna Maria continued her discourse.
"Oh, I liked every thing exceedingly at Paris, as far as society was concerned: every thing eatable, shocking—but the Count de Nolis assured me the march of improvement had begun, and would be very evident when he returned. Tom did not like Paris. He felt the want of sporting, and those sort of noisy pursuits which are disgusting to the Parisians. The Count de Nolis introduced us to many delightful French families. I must confess I did not like it at first, but I was sorry to quit Paris. English customs are so wearisome, after the ease of French society!"
Sir John Wetheral looked surprised at Anna Maria's sentiments, and he glanced his eye upon Christobelle with an anxious expression, as she sat gazing at her sister. Miss Wycherly was entertained beyond expression by the change in her manners, and amused herself by calling forth Anna Maria's remarks. She inquired who the Count de Nolis was, who figured so much in their train.
"The Count! Oh, the dearest and liveliest creature you ever saw. He is engaged to pay Tom a visit, or rather myself, for I don't think Tom liked him. He will visit us in the autumn. I have been obliged to bring a French maid home, to dress me, because a lady's maid here is only fit to dress an English woman."
"Have you renounced the title of English woman, Anna Maria?" asked her father, gravely.
"No, indeed, papa. I shall always be English; but Félicé has such a way of blending colours, and making up dresses!—You shall judge for yourself. Is there a party, to-day, at dinner; or, are we to have a soirée?"