Lady Mary, on her side, was charmed with her new friend. “The brother may be a cad, as you say, but she is perfection,” she said incautiously to Harry, when he came in with a glowing countenance from his walk. “What good breeding, what grace, what charming graceful ways she has! and yet always the simplicity of that pretty Scotch accent, and of the words which slip out now and then. The children are all in raptures with little Sibby. Fancy making a graceful name like Sybil into such a hideous diminutive! But that is Scotch all over. They seem to take a pleasure in keeping their real refinement in the background, and showing a rough countenance to the world. They are all like that,” said Lady Mary, who was fond of generalizations.
Harry did not say much, but he drew a chair close to the fire, and sat and mused over it with sparkling eyes, when his aunt went to dress for dinner. He did not feel capable of coherent thought at all; he was lost in a rapture of feeling which would not go into words. He felt that he could sit there all night long not wishing to budge, to be still, not even thinking, existing in the mere atmosphere of the wonderful day which was now over. Would it come back again? would it prolong itself? would his life grow into a lengthened sweet repetition of this day? He sat there with his knees into the fire, gazing into the red depths till his eyes grew red in sympathy, until the bell for dinner began to peal through the silent winter air. Mr. Tottenham had come home, and was visible at the door in evening costume, refreshed and warmed after his drive, when Harry, half-blind, rushed out to make a hasty toilette. His distracted looks made his host wonder.
“I hope you are not letting that boy get into mischief,” he said to his wife.
“Mischief! what mischief could he get into here?” Lady Mary replied, with a smile; and then they began to talk on very much more important matters—on Herr Hartstong’s visit, and the preparations at the Shop, which were now complete.
“I expect you to show a good example, and to treat my people like friends,” said Mr. Tottenham.
“Oh, friends!—am not I the head shopwoman?” asked Lady Mary, laughing. “You may be sure I intend to appear so.”
The entertainment was to take place on the next evening, after the botanical lecture at Harbour Green. It was, indeed, likely to be an exciting day, with so much going on.
And when the people at Tottenham’s went to dinner, the Murrays had tea, for which they were all quite ready after the sharp evening air. “You were wrong to speak about your housekeeping, and all that,” the doctor said, in the mildest of accents, and with no appearance of suspicion, for in the bosom of his family he feared no criticism. “Remember always, Margaret, that people take you at your own estimate. It does not do to let yourself down.”
“And it does not do to set yourself up, beyond what you can support,” said Margaret. “We are not rich folk, and we must not give ourselves airs. And oh, Charles, one thing I wanted to say. If you wouldn’t say ladyship—at least, not often. No one else seems to do it, except the servants. Don’t be angry. I watch always to see what people say.”
“I hope I know what to say as well as anyone,” said the doctor, with momentary offence; but, nevertheless, he made a private note of it, having confidence in his sister’s keen observation. Altogether, the start at Harbour Green had been very successful, and it was not wonderful if both Dr. Charles and his sister felt an inward exhilaration in such a prosperous commencement of their new life.