'I like a county in which there is something left of county feeling,' said Lady Carbury. 'Staffordshire and Warwickshire, Cheshire and Lancashire have become great towns, and have lost all local distinctions.'
'We still keep our name and reputation,' said the bishop; 'silly Suffolk!'
'But that was never deserved.'
'As much, perhaps, as other general epithets. I think we are a sleepy people. We've got no coal, you see, and no iron. We have no beautiful scenery, like the lake country,--no rivers great for fishing, like Scotland,--no hunting grounds, like the shires.'
'Partridges!' pleaded Lady Carbury, with pretty energy.
'Yes; we have partridges, fine churches, and the herring fishery. We shall do very well if too much is not expected of us. We can't increase and multiply as they do in the great cities.'
'I like this part of England so much the best for that very reason. What is the use of a crowded population?'
'The earth has to be peopled, Lady Carbury.'
'Oh, yes,' said her ladyship, with some little reverence added to her voice, feeling that the bishop was probably adverting to a divine arrangement. 'The world must be peopled; but for myself I like the country better than the town.'
'So do I,' said Roger; 'and I like Suffolk. The people are hearty, and radicalism is not quite so rampant as it is elsewhere. The poor people touch their hats, and the rich people think of the poor. There is something left among us of old English habits.'
'That is so nice,' said Lady Carbury.
'Something left of old English ignorance,' said the bishop. 'All the same I dare say we're improving, like the rest of the world. What beautiful flowers you have here, Mr Carbury! At any rate, we can grow flowers in Suffolk.'
Mrs Yeld, the bishop's wife, was sitting next to the priest, and was in truth somewhat afraid of her neighbour. She was, perhaps, a little stauncher than her husband in Protestantism; and though she was willing to admit that Mr Barham might not have ceased to be a gentleman when he became a Roman Catholic priest, she was not quite sure that it was expedient for her or her husband to have much to do with him. Mr Carbury had not taken them unawares. Notice had been given that the priest was to be there, and the bishop had declared that he would be very happy to meet the priest. But Mrs Yeld had had her misgivings. She never ventured to insist on her opinion after the bishop had expressed his; but she had an idea that right was right, and wrong wrong,--and that Roman Catholics were wrong, and therefore ought to be put down. And she thought also that if there were no priests there would be no Roman Catholics. Mr Barham was, no doubt, a man of good family, which did make a difference.