Lord Robert's answer came on Saturday afternoon. It was all done through Lady Merrenden.
He will be delighted to come and shoot on Tuesday, to-morrow. Oh, I am so glad, but I do wonder if I shall be able to make him understand not to say anything about having been at Branches while I was there. Such a simple thing, but Lady Katherine is so odd and particular.
The party is to be a large one--nine guns. I hope some will be amusing, though I rather fear.
Tuesday night.
It is quite late, nearly twelve o'clock, but I feel so wide awake I must write.
I shall begin from the beginning, when every one arrived.
They came by two trains early in the afternoon, and just at tea-time, and Lord Robert was among the last lot.
They are mostly the same sort as Lady Katherine, looking as good as gold; but one woman, Lady Verningham, Lady Katherine's niece, is different, and I liked her at once.
She has lovely clothes, and an exquisite figure, and her hat on the right way. She has charming manners, too, but one can see she is on a duty visit.
Even all this company did not altogether stop Mary Mackintosh laying down the law upon domestic--infant domestic--affairs. We all sat in the big drawing-room, and I caught Lady Verningham's eye, and we laughed together. The first eye with a meaning in it I have seen since I left Branches.
Everybody talked so agreeably, with pauses, not enjoying themselves at all, when Jean and Kirstie began about their work, and explained it, and tried to get orders, and Jessie and Maggie too, and specimens of it all had to be shown, and prices fixed. I should hate to have to beg, even for a charity.
I felt quite uncomfortable for them, but they did not mind a bit, and their victims were noble over it.
Our parson at Branches always got so red and nervous when he had to ask for anything, one could see he was quite a gentleman; but women are different, I suppose.
I longed for tea.
While they are all very kind here, there is that asphyxiating atmosphere of stiffness and decorum which affects every one who comes to Tryland. A sort of "the gold must be tried by fire and the heart must be wrung by pain" kind of suggestion about everything.
They are extraordinarily cheerful, because it is a Christian virtue, cheerfulness; not because they are brimming over with joy, or that lovely feeling of being alive and not minding much what happens, you feel so splendid, like I get on fine days.