Meanwhile it afforded Fanny infinite delight to relieve Flora of her hat, mantle, and every other sort of impoundable article which it is the custom to deprive arriving guests of, as a greater security against their running away. Then they sat down together, and the conversation turned naturally upon women's dress, women's needlework, and other similar trifles which generally interest gentlewomen, so that by the time Dame Marion returned with old Kárpáthy from the family archives, there was no longer any trace of the passionate and touching scene that had taken place between the two ladies, but they were conversing with each other like old, like good old, acquaintances.
"Ah, ha!" said Dame Marion, wagging her head when she observed Flora without hat or mantle. "You are making yourself quite at home, I must say."
"Yes, aunt; I am going to stay here for a short time with Fanny."
Dame Marion, with an air of astonishment, looked around her into every corner of the room, and then up at the ceiling, as if she could not make out who Fanny was.
"Ah! mille pardons, madame. I recollect now, of course, of course—that is your Christian name. I am quite confused by all the family names with which Squire Kárpáthy's director jurium has been filling my ears. Really this Kárpáthy family has quite a frightful lot of connexions. The female branch is united by marriage with all the most eminent families in the realm. I verily believe there's not a name in the calendar that it has not appropriated;" which meant, being interpreted, "Your family is not very likely to add fresh glory to the Kárpáthy family tree!"
But Flora only laughed good-naturedly, and said—
"Well, now, at any rate, Fanny is a very honourable name in the family records."
Dame Marion, however, kept standing there in amazement, with her long-handled parasol in her hand—like Diana might have looked if she had shot one of her dogs instead of a hare. She could not understand from whence these people derived so much good humour when she was so bent upon aggravating them.
"And how long, may I ask, will—this—short—time—be?" she inquired of Flora, with a biting, staccato sort of intonation, gazing vaguely into vacancy.