"You certainly did," said Mrs. Van Tromp, with a heightened color.
"Then, madam," said Lady Marian, rising majestically, "I can only say that such crazy tales reflect neither grace nor credit on you, and if you be not taken for one who loves marvels more than truth it will much surprise me."
Mrs. Van Tromp rose too. She hated to give up taking Lady Marian and her father and Lady Stukely to the Matriarchs, but there were some things she could not stand.
"I am sure," she said, speaking in a tone of lofty dignity, but fluttering her fan with some agitation, "that you do not mean to imply that I say what is false; but your language is at least open to that inference."
"Madam," replied Marian, with equal haughtiness, "my language and your inference are one. And that thou thinkest me a poor credulous fool adds not one whit to the good will I owe thee. This comes," she continued, with severe displeasure, "of mercers' wives playing lady."
Macfarren's position during this colloquy was awkward in the extreme. He had been blest in always seeing women in their gracious and lovable aspect, and now with these two ladies, each a queen in her own realm, facing each other, crimson and defiant, himself responsible for their meeting, the situation was anything but agreeable to his fastidious nature. But it need scarcely be said that his sympathies were all with Marian. Unconsciously she had been the aggressor; but how unjust to judge her by that stricter code of manners that governed Mrs. Van Tromp! How proud the young girl looked, serene in her consciousness of rank and position! How like an angry fish-wife looked Mrs. Van Tromp! And what was he to say or do? Obviously, nothing.
Mrs. Van Tromp made the next move. She was furiously vexed, but, being at the core a very shrewd woman, she did not intend to close every chink of reconciliation. The Lady Marian was certainly a very queer person, and this might be only one of her numerous peculiarities; but she was the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley and chaperoned by Lady Stukely. So, making a low bow, she said:
"I am sorry that this should have occurred. I feel myself blameless, though; and when Lady Marian de Winstanley makes the apology she owes me, and which she also owes herself, I shall be glad to forget that it has ever happened."
But, before she could sail gracefully off, the Lady Marian had started up, and, seizing Macfarren by the arm nervously, cried out, in a voice full of distress: