The windows, both of the drawing-room and the dining-room, looked out on to the lawn; and it was only natural that the girls should walk from the former to the latter. It was only natural that they, being there, should tempt their swains to come to them by the sight of their broad-brimmed hats and evening dresses; and natural, also, that the temptation should not be resisted. The squire, therefore, and the elder male guests soon found themselves alone round their wine.
“Upon my word, we were enchanted by your eloquence, Mr Gresham, were we not?” said Miss Oriel, turning to one of the de Courcy girls who was with her.
Miss Oriel was a very pretty girl; a little older than Frank Gresham,—perhaps a year or so. She had dark hair, large round dark eyes, a nose a little too broad, a pretty mouth, a beautiful chin, and, as we have said before, a large fortune;—that is, moderately large—let us say twenty thousand pounds, there or thereabouts. She and her brother had been living at Greshamsbury for the last two years, the living having been purchased for him—such were Mr Gresham’s necessities—during the lifetime of the last old incumbent. Miss Oriel was in every respect a nice neighbour; she was good-humoured, ladylike, lively, neither too clever nor too stupid, belonging to a good family, sufficiently fond of this world’s good things, as became a pretty young lady so endowed, and sufficiently fond, also, of the other world’s good things, as became the mistress of a clergyman’s house.
“Indeed, yes,” said the Lady Margaretta. “Frank is very eloquent. When he described our rapid journey from London, he nearly moved me to tears. But well as he talks, I think he carves better.”
“I wish you’d had to do it, Margaretta; both the carving and talking.”
“Thank you, Frank; you’re very civil.”
“But there’s one comfort, Miss Oriel; it’s over now, and done. A fellow can’t be made to come of age twice.”
“But you’ll take your degree, Mr Gresham; and then, of course, there’ll be another speech; and then you’ll get married, and there will be two or three more.”
“I’ll speak at your wedding, Miss Oriel, long before I do at my own.”
“I shall not have the slightest objection. It will be so kind of you to patronise my husband.”
“But, by Jove, will he patronise me? I know you’ll marry some awful bigwig, or some terribly clever fellow; won’t she, Margaretta?”
“Miss Oriel was saying so much in praise of you before you came out,” said Margaretta, “that I began to think that her mind was intent on remaining at Greshamsbury all her life.”
Frank blushed, and Patience laughed. There was but a year’s difference in their age; Frank, however, was still a boy, though Patience was fully a woman.
“I am ambitious, Lady Margaretta,” said she. “I own it; but I am moderate in my ambition. I do love Greshamsbury, and if Mr Gresham had a younger brother, perhaps, you know—”
“Another just like myself, I suppose,” said Frank.
“Oh, yes. I could not possibly wish for any change.”
“Just as eloquent as you are, Frank,” said the Lady Margaretta.
“And as good a carver,” said Patience.
“Miss Bateson has lost her heart to him for ever, because of his carving,” said the Lady Margaretta.
“But perfection never repeats itself,” said Patience.
“Well, you see, I have not got any brothers,” said Frank; “so all I can do is to sacrifice myself.”
“Upon my word, Mr Gresham, I am under more than ordinary obligations to you; I am indeed,” and Miss Oriel stood still in the path, and made a very graceful curtsy. “Dear me! only think, Lady Margaretta, that I should be honoured with an offer from the heir the very moment he is legally entitled to make one.”
“And done with so much true gallantry, too,” said the other; “expressing himself quite willing to postpone any views of his own or your advantage.”
“Yes,” said Patience; “that’s what I value so much: had he loved me now, there would have been no merit on his part; but a sacrifice, you know—”
“Yes, ladies are so fond of such sacrifices, Frank, upon my word, I had no idea you were so very excellent at making speeches.”
“Well,” said Frank, “I shouldn’t have said sacrifice, that was a slip; what I meant was—”
“Oh, dear me,” said Patience, “wait a minute; now we are going to have a regular declaration. Lady Margaretta, you haven’t got a scent-bottle, have you? And if I should faint, where’s the garden-chair?”
“Oh, but I’m not going to make a declaration at all,” said Frank.
“Are you not? Oh! Now, Lady Margaretta, I appeal to you; did you not understand him to say something very particular?”
“Certainly, I thought nothing could be plainer,” said the Lady Margaretta.
“And so, Mr Gresham, I am to be told, that after all it means nothing,” said Patience, putting her handkerchief up to her eyes.
“It means that you are an excellent hand at quizzing a fellow like me.”
“Quizzing! No; but you are an excellent hand at deceiving a poor girl like me. Well, remember I have got a witness; here is Lady Margaretta, who heard it all. What a pity it is that my brother is a clergyman. You calculated on that, I know; or you would never had served me so.”
She said so just as her brother joined them, or rather just as he had joined Lady Margaretta de Courcy; for her ladyship and Mr Oriel walked on in advance by themselves. Lady Margaretta had found it rather dull work, making a third in Miss Oriel’s flirtation with her cousin; the more so as she was quite accustomed to take a principal part herself in all such transactions. She therefore not unwillingly walked on with Mr Oriel. Mr Oriel, it must be conceived, was not a common, everyday parson, but had points about him which made him quite fit to associate with an earl’s daughter. And as it was known that he was not a marrying man, having very exalted ideas on that point connected with his profession, the Lady Margaretta, of course, had the less objection to trust herself alone with him.
But directly she was gone, Miss Oriel’s tone of banter ceased. It was very well making a fool of a lad of twenty-one when others were by; but there might be danger in it when they were alone together.
“I don’t know any position on earth more enviable than yours, Mr Gresham,” said she, quite soberly and earnestly; “how happy you ought to be.”
“What, in being laughed at by you, Miss Oriel, for pretending to be a man, when you choose to make out that I am only a boy? I can bear to be laughed at pretty well generally, but I can’t say that your laughing at me makes me feel so happy as you say I ought to be.”
Frank was evidently of an opinion totally different from that of Miss Oriel. Miss Oriel, when she found herself tête-à-tête with him, thought it was time to give over flirting; Frank, however, imagined that it was just the moment for him to begin. So he spoke and looked very languishing, and put on him quite the airs of an Orlando.
“Oh, Mr Gresham, such good friends as you and I may laugh at each other, may we not?”
“You may do what you like, Miss Oriel: beautiful women I believe always may; but you remember what the spider said to the fly, ‘That which is sport to you, may be death to me.’“ Anyone looking at Frank’s face as he said this, might well have imagined that he was breaking his very heart for love of Miss Oriel. Oh, Master Frank! Master