having his clever friends to stay with him. 'The squire will be so
pleased. My brother, you know, is very clever; oh yes, frightfully
clever!'

And then there was a long sigh, at which Elsmere could hardly keep his
countenance.

She thought it particularly considerate of them to have been to see the
squire's books. It would make conversation so easy when they came to
dinner.

'Though I don't know anything about his books. He doesn't like women to
talk about books. He says they only pretend--even the clever ones.
Except, of course, Madame de Stael. He can only say she was ugly, and I
don't deny it. But I have about used up Madame de Stael,' she added,
dropping into another sigh as soft and light as a child's.

Robert was charmed with her, and even Langham smiled. And as Mrs. Darcy
adored 'clever men,' ranking them, as the London of her youth had ranked
them, only second to 'persons of birth,' she stood among them beaming,
becoming more and more whimsical and inconsequent, more and more
deliciously incalculable, as she expanded. At last she fluttered off,
only, however, to come hurrying back, with little, short, scudding
steps, to implore them all to come to tea with her as soon as possible
in the garden that was her special hobby, and in her last new
summer-house.

'I build two or three every summer,' she said. 'Now, there are
twenty-one! Roger laughs at me,' and there was a momentary bitterness in
the little eerie face, 'but how can one live without hobbies? That's
one--then I've two more. My album--oh, you _will_ all write in my album,
won't you? When I was young--when I was Maid of Honour'--and she drew
herself up slightly--'everybody had albums. Even the dear Queen herself!
I remember how she made M. Guizot write in it; something quite stupid,
after all. _Those_ hobbies--the garden and the album--are _quite_
harmless, aren't they? They hurt nobody, do they?' Her voice dropped a
little, with a pathetic expostulating intonation in it, as of one
accustomed to be rebuked.

'Let me remind you of a saying of Bacon's,' said Langham, studying her,
and softened perforce into benevolence.

'Yes, yes,' said Mrs. Darcy in a flutter of curiosity.

'God Almighty first planted a garden,' he quoted; 'and indeed, it is the
purest of all human pleasures.'

'Oh, but how _delightful_!' cried Mrs. Darcy, clasping her diminutive
hands in their thread gloves. 'You must write that in my album, Mr.
Langham, that very sentence; o