There was an old Sir Thomas Farquharson who came to Branches, and he grasped the deepest jokes of Mrs. Carruthers--so deep that even I did not understand them--and he was Scotch. It may be they are like that only when they have red hair.
When I was seated on top of a stile, Malcolm suddenly announced: "I hear you are going to London when you go. I hope you will let me come and see you; but I wish you lived here always."
"I don't," I said, and then I remembered that sounded rather rude, and they had been kind to me. "At least, you know, I think the country is dull; don't you--for always?"
"Yes," he replied, primly, "for men, but it is where I should always wish to see the woman I respected."
"Are towns so wicked?" I asked, in my little-angel voice. "Tell me of their pitfalls, so that I may avoid them."
"You must not believe everything people say to you, to begin with," he said, seriously. "For one so young as you, I am afraid you will find your path beset with temptations."
"Oh, do tell me what!" I implored. "I have always wanted to know what temptations were. Please tell me. If you come to see me--would you be a temptation, or is temptation a thing and not a person?" I looked at him so beseechingly he never for a second saw the twinkle in my eye.
He coughed pompously. "I expect I should be," he said modestly. "Temptations are--er--er--Oh, I say, you know, I say--I don't know what to say."
"Oh, what a pity!" I said, regretfully. "I was hoping to hear all about it from you, especially if you are one yourself; you must know."
He looked gratified, but still confused.
"You see, when you are quite alone in London, some man may make love to you."
"Oh, do you think so, really?" I asked, aghast. "That, I suppose, would be frightful, if I were by myself in the room. Would it do, do you think, if I left the sitting-room door open and kept Véronique on the other side?"
He looked at me hard, but he only saw the face of an unprotected angel, and, becoming reassured, he said, gravely: "Yes, it might be just as well."
"You do surprise me about love," I said. "I had no idea it was a violent kind of thing like that. I thought it began with grave reverence and respect, and after years of offering flowers and humble compliments, and bread-and-butter at tea-parties, the gentleman went down upon one knee and made a declaration--'Clara Maria, I adore you; be mine'--and then one put out a lily-white hand and, blushing, told him to rise; but that can't be your sort, and you have not yet explained what temptation means."