“Some old quarrel—what, I can’t exactly say—with Mrs. Temple,” replied Geoffrey. “Of late years, you know, Miss Tremlett has taken it into her head to become very Low Church, and she insulted the widow, Mrs. Temple, very much one day, by drawing a comparison between the state of Church matters in her husband’s day, when his daughters played the organ and dressed up the altar—did just as they, chose, in fact, for he was the easiest of good old easy-going parsons—and the present condition of things under that very vigorous and vulgar Irishman, Mr. Magee, who toadies Miss Tremlett tremendously, as you may have seen for yourself.”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Marion; “horrid man he is, I think! And I am sure the Temples were the best and most charitable of people. How long has Miss Veronica been crippled, Mr. Baldwin? I remember running up and down that steep stair leading to the organ loft with Harry in her arms when we were quite little children. Such a bright, active creature, I always imagined her. It seems so sad to come back to find her so changed.”
“But bright and active still, though she never leaves her sofa,” said Geoffrey; “she is one of the sweetest women I ever knew. You must certainly go to see her. She will be delighted, I know. I shall call and ask her about it on my way home.”
“Thank you very much,” said Marion, earnestly. “I should like to see her again,” she added softly. And then she sat, leaning her cheek on her hand, gazing silently into the fire.
It was burning more cheerfully by this time, and the flickering light danced fitfully on Marion’s pale face; for it was a very gloomy day outside, and the dingy room was in a sort of twilight. Geoffrey looked at her anxiously. Suddenly he spoke again:
“Do you ride, Miss Vere” he asked.
She started; for her thoughts had been far away, and he had to repeat the words before she caught their sense. When she did so, she answered carelessly:
“A little. That is to say, I have ridden, and I am not nervous. I liked it very much.”
Geoffrey’s face brightened.
“I have a mare that I’m certain would carry you beautifully,” he said, “I’ll have her tried. I was thinking, if you were to make acquaintance with some of the girls about here who ride, you might come to a meet now and then. There are the Copleys of Copley Wood. They’re really not bad girls, and I know they would be delighted to make friends with you.”