"Oh, a mere bagatelle—only a week, aunty."
"Only a week!" exclaimed Dame Marion, in horror; "only a week!"
"If only I am not kicked out in the mean time," retorted Lady Szentirmay, jocosely; whereupon Fanny immediately embraced her affectionately, by way of signifying that she would like to keep her for ever.
"Ah, indeed!" remarked Dame Marion, petulantly. "Well, well! young women soon make friends with each other. I am so delighted you have got to love each other so much all at once—that shows how much your natures are alike, at which I am charmed. I hope, however, my dear niece, that you will permit me to return to Szentirma. I hope," continued she, "that I leave my niece in safe custody, though. I do not know whether Szentirmay is likely to trouble Kárpáthy Castle very much with his jealousy. Adieu, my dear neighbour, chère voisine! Adieu, chère nièce, adieu!"
This ambiguous farewell was capable of a double interpretation, each alternative of which was equally insulting, as it might be taken to mean, either that no sane person had any reason whatever to be jealous of old John Kárpáthy, or that Kárpáthy Castle had such a bad reputation that no woman's good name was likely to be improved by a residence within its walls.
No sooner had the old wet blanket disappeared than the two young women, in the exuberance of their high spirits, took possession of Squire John, and, singing and dancing, marched him up the stone staircase again into the castle. Squire John himself was in the best of humours; his face beamed, he laughed aloud, and he thought to himself what a fine thing it would have been if both these young women were his daughters and called him father.
The ancient rooms resounded with the hubbub and innocent frolics of these two merry young dames. It had been a long long time since those walls had rung with such a sound as that.