Arabella did not sit down, so that Morton had an opportunity of standing near to his love. “I suppose you are very tired,” he said.
“Not in the least.” She smiled her sweetest as she answered him—but yet it was not very sweet. “Of course we were tired and cross when we got out of the train. People always are; aren’t they?”
“Perhaps ladies are.”
“We were. But all that about the carriages, Mr. Morton, wasn’t my doing. Mamma had been talking to me so much that I didn’t know whether I was on my head or my heels. It was very good of you to come and meet us, and I ought to have been more gracious.” In this way she made her peace, and as she was quite in earnest—doing a portion of the hard work of her life—she continued to smile as sweetly as she could. Perhaps he liked it;—but any man endowed with that power of appreciation which we call sympathy, would have felt it to be as cold as though it had come from a figure on a glass window.
The dinner was announced. Mr. Morton was honoured with the hand of Lady Augustus. The Senator handed the old lady into the dining-room and Mr. Mainwaring the younger lady—so that Arabella was sitting next to her lover. It had all been planned by Morton and acceded to by his grandmother. Mr. Gotobed throughout the dinner had the best of the conversation, though Lady Augustus had power enough to snub him on more than one occasion. “Suppose we were to allow at once,” she said, “that everything is better in the United States than anywhere else, shouldn’t we get along easier?”
“I don’t know that getting along easy is what we have particularly got in view,” said Mr. Gotobed, who was certainly in quest of information.
“But it is what I have in view, Mr. Gotobed;—so if you please we’ll take the preeminence of your country for granted.” Then she turned to Mr. Mainwaring on the other side. Upon this the Senator addressed himself for a while to the table at large and had soon forgotten altogether the expression of the lady’s wishes.
“I believe you have a good many churches about here,” said Lady Augustus trying to make conversation to her neighbour.
“One in every parish, I fancy,” said Mr. Mainwaring, who preferred all subjects to clerical subjects. “I suppose London is quite empty now.”
“We came direct from the Duke’s,” said Lady Augustus—“and did not even sleep in town;—but it is empty.” The Duke was the brother of Lord Augustus, and a compromise had been made with Lady Augustus, by which she and her daughter should be allowed a fortnight every year at the Duke’s place in the country, and a certain amount of entertainment in town.
“I remember the Duke at Christchurch,” said the parson. “He and I were of the same par. He was Lord Mistletoe then. Dear me, that was a long time ago. I wonder whether he remembers being upset out of a trap with me one day after dinner. I suppose we had dined in earnest. He has gone his way, and I have gone mine, and I’ve never seen him since. Pray remember me to him.” Lady Augustus said she would, and did entertain some little increased respect for the clergyman who could boast that he had been tipsy in company with her worthy brother-in-law.
Poor Mr. Cooper did not get on very well with Mrs. Morton. All his remembrances of the old squire were eulogistic and affectionate. Hers were just the reverse. He had a good word to say for Reginald Morton—to which she would not even listen. She was willing enough to ask questions about the Mallingham tenants;—but Mr. Cooper would revert back to the old days, and so conversation was at an end.
Morton tried to make himself agreeable to his left-hand neighbour—trying also very hard to make himself believe that he was happy in his immediate position. How often in the various amusements of the world is one tempted to pause a moment and ask oneself whether one really likes it! He was conscious that he was working hard, struggling to be happy, painfully anxious to be sure that he was enjoying the luxury of being in love. But he was not at all contented. There she was, and very beautiful she looked; and he thought that he could be proud of her if she sat at the end of his table;—and he knew that she was engaged to be his wife. But he doubted whether she was in love with him; and he almost doubted sometimes whether he was very much in love with her. He asked her in so many words what he should do to amuse her. Would she like to ride with him, as if so he would endeavour to get saddle-horses. Would she like to go out hunting? Would she be taken round to see the neighbouring towns, Rufford and Norrington? “Lord Rufford lives somewhere near Rufford?” she asked. Yes;—he lived at Rufford Hall, three or four miles from the town. Did Lord Rufford hunt? Morton believed that he was greatly given to hunting. Then he asked Arabella whether she knew the young lord. She had just met him, she
