"But why?" persevered Molly. "I'm one of them."
"Yes, you are. But--now don't reprove me again for impertinence--most
of them are so unnatural in their exaggerated respect and admiration
when they come up to the Towers, and put on so much pretence by way
of fine manners, that they only make themselves objects of ridicule.
You at least are simple and truthful, and that's why I separate you
in my own mind from them, and have talked unconsciously to you as I
would--well! now here's another piece of impertinence--as I would to
my equal--in rank, I mean; for I don't set myself up in solid things
as any better than my neighbours. Here's tea, however, come in time
to stop me from growing too humble."
It was a very pleasant little tea in the fading September twilight.
Just as it was ended, in came Mr. Preston again:--
"Lady Harriet, will you allow me the pleasure of showing you some
alterations I have made in the flower-garden--in which I have tried
to consult your taste--before it grows dark?"
"Thank you, Mr. Preston. I will ride over with papa some day, and we
will see if we approve of them."
Mr. Preston's brow flushed. But he affected not to perceive Lady
Harriet's haughtiness, and, turning to Molly, he said,--
"Will not you come out, Miss Gibson, and see something of the
gardens? You haven't been out at all, I think, excepting to church."
Molly did not like the idea of going out for a walk with only Mr.
Preston; yet she pined for a little fresh air, would have been glad
to see the gardens, and look at the Manor-house from different
aspects; and, besides this, much as she recoiled from Mr. Preston,
she felt sorry for him under the repulse he had just received.
While she was hesitating, and slowly tending towards consent, Lady
Harriet spoke,--
"I cannot spare Miss Gibson. If she would like to see the place, I
will bring her over some day myself."
When he had left the room, Lady Harriet said,--"I daresay it's my own
lazy selfishness has kept you indoors all day against your will. But,
at any rate, you are not to go out walking with that man. I've an
instinctive aversion to him; not entirely instinctive either; it has
some foundation in fact; and I desire you don't allow him ever to get
intimate with you. He's a very clever land-agent, and does his duty
by papa, and I don't choose to be taken up for libel; but remember
what I say!"
Then the carriage came round, and after numberless last words from
the earl--who appeared to have put off every possible direction to
the moment when he stood, like an awkward Mercury, balancing himself
on the step of the carriage--they drove back to the Towers.