The Lady Letitia sniffed, suppressed her inclination towards cynicism, and answered her nephew with gracious resignation.
“Let us say no more about it, dear Richard,” she said, “we are all mistaken at times, and not even the oldest among us are infallible. I can forget the past in thankfulness for your safe return; you must try and forgive your old aunt her whims.”
Richard bowed and offered the Lady Letitia his arm.
“God forbid, Richard,” she said, impressively, as they walked back towards the coach, Jeffray’s mare following like a dog at his heels, “God forbid that an old woman should trifle with the happiness of two young hearts. I wish you all joy, my dear nephew. You must try and persuade Miss Hardacre to love me.”
Richard was quite conquered by the old lady’s tone of tender resignation. Perhaps Jilian had exaggerated his aunt’s asperities in the heat of her youthful self-pity. Richard was a peace-loving being, and he was glad that the quarrel promised to end in sunshine.
“I am sure Miss Hardacre bears no malice,” he said.
The Lady Letitia’s eyes flashed a curious look into Richard’s face. So the girl had chosen the saintly and heroic part. Well, she had wit, and her dear nephew was a delightful and amusing simpleton. Did he really think that women ever forgave such insinuations as she, the Lady Letitia, had flung at Miss Hardacre’s head? At all events it would be possible for her to remain another month or two in comfort at Rodenham, and it would be an interesting recreation to study the lad’s domestic ideals in the future.
“Miss Hardacre must be a very magnanimous young lady,” she said, with inward irony.
“Jilian has a generous heart, madam.”
“Ah, Richard, the heart is everything in a woman.”