“I fancy they are always in grief, by the frequent appeals to Margery. Lady Godolphin is kind to the wife. She tells Margery if it were not for my lady, she should starve.”
An arrival was heard as Maria spoke, and George rang the bell. It was answered by Maria’s maid, but George said he wanted the butler. The man appeared.
“Has Mr. Verrall come?”
“No, sir. It is Mr. Godolphin.”
“When Mr. Verrall comes, show him into the Bank parlour, and call me. I wish to see him before he goes into the drawing-room.”
The man departed with his order. George went into the adjoining bedroom. A few minutes, and some one else was heard to come in, and run up the stairs with eager steps. It was followed by an impatient knock at Maria’s door.
It proved to be Isaac Hastings. A fine-looking young man, with a sensible countenance. “Have they gone in to dinner yet, Maria?” he hastily cried.
“No. It is not time. No one has come but Mr. Godolphin.”
“I did such a stupid trick! I——”
“Is it you, Isaac?” interrupted George, returning to the room. “I could not think who it was, rushing up.”