They paused a moment on the edge of the plateau on which the house stood—the ground breaking from it to the west. A group of cottages appeared amid the woods far away.
"If all estates were like this estate!" cried Lydia, pointing to them, "and all cottages like their cottages!"
Faversham flushed and stiffened.
"Oh! the Tathams are always perfection!"
Lydia's eyebrows lifted.
"It is a crime?"
"No—but one hears too much of it."
"Not from them!" The tone was indignant.
"I daresay."
Suddenly, he threw her a look which startled her. She descended from her pony-cart at the steps of the castle, her breath fluttering a little. What had happened?