Thus murmuring polite platitudes, Maryllia bade her visitors adieu.
Sir Morton conquered an inclination to gasp for breath and say
'Damn!' at the young lady's careless refusal of his invitation to
dinner,—Miss Tabitha secretly rejoiced.
"I'm sure I don't want her at Badsworth," she said within herself, viciously—"Nasty little insolent conceited thing! I believe her hair is dyed, and her complexion put on! A regular play-actress!"
Unconscious of the spinster's amiable thoughts, Maryllia was holding out a hand to her.
"Good-bye!" she said—"So kind of you to come and see me! I'm sure you think I must be lonely here. But I'm not, really! I don't think I ever shall be,—because as soon as I have got the house quite in order, I am going to ask a great many friends to stay with me in turn. They will enjoy seeing the old place, and country air is such a boon to London people! Good-bye!"—and here she turned to Marius Longford—"I'm afraid I haven't read any of your books!—anyway I expect they would be too deep for me. Wouldn't they?"
"Lord Roxmouth has been good enough to express his liking for my poor efforts," he replied, with a slight covert smile—"I believe you know him?"
"Oh, quite well—quite too well!" said Maryllia, without any discomposure—"But what he likes, I always detest. Unfortunate, isn't it! So I mustn't even try to read your works! You, Mr. Adderley"—and she laughingly looked up at that gentleman, who, hat in hand, was pensively drooping in a farewell attitude before her,— "you are going to stop here all summer, aren't you? And in a cottage! How delightful! Anywhere near the Manor?"
"I am not so happy as to have found a domicile on this side Eden!" murmured Adderley, with a languishing look—"My humble hut is set some distance apart,—about a mile beyond the rectory."
"Then your best neighbour will be the parson," said Maryllia, gaily-
-"So improving to your morals!"
"Possibly—possibly! "assented Adderley—" Mr. Walden is not exactly like other parsons,—there is something wonderfully attractive about him—"
"Something wonderfully conceited and unbearable, you mean!" snapped out Sir Morton—"Come, come!—we must be off! The horses are at the door,—can't keep them standing! Miss Vancourt doesn't want to hear anything about the parson. She'll find him out soon enough for herself. He's an upstart, my dear lady—take my word for it!—a pretentious University prig and upstart! You'll never meet HIM at Badsworth!—ha-ha-ha! Never! Sorry you can't dine on Thursday! Never mind, never mind! Another time! Good-bye!"