'He has his bitter moods at times; no one could pass through such an ordeal quite unscathed. I am afraid he will never marry again; he told me once that the woman did not live whom he could love as he loved Margaret.'
'She must have been very beautiful.'
'I believe her chief charm lay in her wonderful fascination of manner. Heriot is a severe critic in feminine beauty; he is singularly fastidious; he will not allow that Miss Trelawny is handsome, though I believe she is generally considered to be so. But I must not waste any more time in gossiping about our neighbours. By the bye, Mildred, you must prepare for an inundation of visitors this afternoon.'
Mr. Lambert was right. Mildred, to her great surprise, found herself holding a reception, which lasted late into the afternoon; at one time there was quite a block of wagonettes and pony carriages in the courtyard; and but for her brother's kindness in remaining to steer her through the difficulties of numerous introductions, she might have found her neighbours' goodwill a little perplexing.
She had just decided in her own mind that Mrs. Sadler was disagreeable, and the Northcotes slightly presuming and in bad style, and that Mrs. Heath was as rosy and commonplace as her husband, when they took their leave, and another set of visitors arrived who were rather, more to Mildred's taste.
These were the Delameres of Castlesteads. The Reverend Stephen Delamere was a tall, ascetic-looking man, with quiet, well-bred manners, in severe clerical costume. His wife had a simple, beautiful face, and was altogether a pleasant, comely-looking creature, but her speech was somewhat homely; and Mildred thought her a little over-dressed: the pink cheeks and smiling eyes hardly required the pink ribbons and feathers to set them off. Their only child, a lad of ten years, was with them, and Mildred, who was fond of boys, could not help admiring the bold gipsy face and dark eyes.
'I am afraid Claude is like me, people say so,' observed Mrs. Delamere, turning her beaming face on Mildred. 'I would much rather he were like his father; the Delameres are all good-looking; old Mr. Delamere was; Stephen called him after his grandfather; I think Claude such a pretty name; Claude Lorraine Delamere: Lorraine is a family name, too; not mine, you know,' dimpling more than ever at the idea; 'good gracious, the Greysons don't own many pretty names among them.'
'Susie, I have been asking our friend Richard to take an early opportunity of driving his aunt over to Castlesteads,' interrupted her husband, with an uneasy glance, 'and we must make Miss Lambert promise to bring over her nieces to the Rush-bearing.'
Mrs. Delamere clapped her plump hands together joyously, showing a slit in her pink glove as she did so.
'I am so glad you have mentioned that, Stephen, I might have forgotten it. Miss Lambert, you must come to us; you must indeed. The Chestertons of the Hall are sure to ask you; but you must remember you are engaged to us.'