“W—well,” said Mr. Hunstanton: his land marched with the Chase, and there were matters in which it did not appear so very clear to him that a gentleman would be an advantage. “To be sure she never will give in to prosecuting poachers or that sort of thing, which is positive quixotism and folly.”
“And there are matters which a gentleman must understand so much the best.”
“W—well,” said Mr. Hunstanton again. “Arguments don’t answer, you see; it is not a thing that can be argued about. Natural propriety and all that, and abstract justice—and—— Diana knows what to say for herself; but then the fact is, that this must be treated as a practical question. It don’t bear argument. I’m glad to see them talking to each other a little; but it will never go beyond that.”
“Did you wish it to go beyond that?” said Mrs. Norton, quickly.
“Who—I? Oh no, dear no; why should I wish it? Bless me! that was not what I was thinking of. I thought they might be friends. I like my friends to take to each other. Now, you appreciate Pandolfini: why shouldn’t Diana? that is all I say. But people are wrong-headed; the best people in the world are often the most wrong-headed,—even Pandolfini himself.”
“I have never seen anything that was not nice in Mr. Pandolfini,” said Mrs. Norton. “He has always been so good. How kind he has been to Sophy and me! Indeed you are all kind. I don’t wonder at it so much among those who know my child’s sterling qualities, though, I trust, I am always grateful. But when a man like Mr. Pandolfini, who knows next to nothing of her, is equally kind, as kind as her oldest friend, why that, I must say, is remarkable. It shows such a kind nature—it must be so disinterested——”
“Disinterested?” said Mr. Hunstanton. “Do you think that is the word? When a man, who is not an old man, pays attention to a pretty young girl—well, it may be very kind, and all that—but I don’t think disinterested is the word I should use.”
“What could we do for him?” cried Mrs. Norton. “You may say Diana, too; but then she knows us, and I hope she is fond of us; but Mr. Pandolfini, what could we do for him? It must all be kindness—pure kindness—for we never can pay him back.”
“Aha! is that how it is?” said Mr. Hunstanton to himself.