“Sure I suppose you be the niece that came home t’other day,” said the Squire, as she stepped from the lowest stair. He had not relaxed his gaze from his first sight of her, nor did he now.
Georgiana replied by making a curtsey, and was about to pass on. But Mr. Thornby, with as great politeness as he could put into his tone, detained her as much by an unconscious gesture as by speech.
“Sure I heard tell as Foxwell’s niece had come home, but I ne’er expected to see such a young lady! Why, miss, or mistress, begging your pardon if I make too free, but there bean’t your match in the county; that there bean’t—I’ll take my oath of it! I’m your neighbour, Thomas Thornby, at your service. Mayhap you’ve heard o’ me.”
“I have heard your name, Mr. Thornby,” said Georgiana, looking quite tolerantly upon him.
“But not heard much good o’ me, if you heard it from your uncle, I’ll warrant. You mustn’t believe all he has said against me, Miss Foxwell. ’Tis like he’ll give a different account o’ me after this: I’ve just had a talk with him, and he knows me a little better. Ecod, miss, I hope you and me can be good neighbours, at all events. Such a face!—excuse the freedom, mistress, but we don’t run across such faces every day hereabouts. There’ll be some, that think themselves beauties, will turn green when they see you at the assembly ball. Ecod, we shall have somebody worth a toast now; for between you and me, the beauties of this neighbourhood don’t muster enough good looks among ’em all to do credit to the punch we drink their healths in. At any rate, that’s my opinion, and explains why I’m still a bachelor. I’m not easy pleased, ma’am; no doubt I look a plain fellow in these here old clothes, but anybody’ll tell you how fastidious Tom Thornby is when it comes to dogs, horses, and women. ’Tis well known, ma’am.”
“I am the more obliged for your compliments, sir; and I wish you good morning,” said Georgiana, amiably, and, after another curtsey, performed with unexpected swiftness, she got away by the nearest door before her new admirer could summon an idea for another speech.
Thornby stared wistfully at the door by which she had left. Indeed he made a step or two toward it; but, thinking better, stopped and drew a ponderous sigh. A servant came into the hall from the forecourt, whereupon the Squire abruptly took his departure. As he rode mutely out of the courtyard, followed by Bartholomew, his countenance betokened thoughts quite other than those with which he had left Foxwell’s presence a minute or two earlier. When he had passed through the village, Thornby motioned his man to ride beside him, and began to converse upon Mr. Foxwell and his present habits. In the course of the talk, it came out, as Bartholomew had been informed by Caleb while waiting in the courtyard, that Foxwell and his guests were accustomed to make some excursion on horseback every day, leaving the niece at home. The consequence of this knowledge was that next day, soon after the party had sallied forth as usual, a servant came to Miss Foxwell in her own small parlour to say that Mr. Thornby waited upon her in the drawing-room.
Mystified, but desiring not to offend, she went to him immediately. He was sprucely dressed, beaming, and all deference. For two hours he sat and sustained the chief burden of a general conversation upon everything in the neighbourhood. While he was more moderate and indirect in his frequent compliments than he had been on the previous day, he maintained a steady gaze of admiration, no less overpowering. Georgiana, wearied to death, had finally to plead household duties in order to dislodge him.
The following day was Sunday, and Miss Foxwell, making her first appearance at the village church, found herself again the object of the Squire’s constant attention, as indeed of the whole congregation’s, although she divided the latter with the London ladies. That evening she was discussed at Thornby Hall by the cronies who happened to be sharing the Squire’s bachelor table; and such was the praise uttered by several gay dogs who considered themselves devilish good judges that Mr. Thornby was kept secretly alternating between elation and jealousy. It needed only this approval and covetousness on the part of others, to complete the Squire’s sense of the young lady’s surpassing excellence.
In the morning, to Bartholomew’s considerable wonder, Mr. Thornby again discovered business that took him past Foxwell Court. He had not the courage against appearing ridiculous, to repeat his visit so soon, but he rode very slowly in passing the place, both going and coming; and, welcoming a pretext for remaining as long as possible in the near vicinity, he no sooner saw, through the doorway of the village ale-house, a man who was now a guest there, than he drew up his horse with alacrity, saying to his attendant, “The very fellow I desired to see: we’ll tarry here awhile, Bartholomew.”