t had come to the place.

At a symptom of her intention to indulge in disgust; Aminta brought up
Mr. Morsfield by name; whereupon Mrs. Pagnell showed she had reflected
on her conduct in relation to the gentleman, and with the fear of the
earl if she were questioned.

Home-made bread and butter, fresh eggs and sparkling fat of bacon
invited her to satisfy her hunger. Aminta let her sniff at the teapot
unpunished; the tea had a rustic aroma of ground-ivy, reminding Weyburn
of his mother's curiosity to know the object of an old man's plucking of
hedgeside leaves in the environs of Bruges one day, and the simple reply
to her French, 'Tea for the English.' A hint of an anecdote interested
and enriched the stores of Mrs. Pagnell, so she capped it and partook of
the infusion ruefully.

'But the bread is really good,' she said, 'and we are unlikely to be
seen leaving the place by any person of importance.'

'Unless Mr. Morsfield should be advised to return this way,' said
Aminta.

Her aunt proposed for a second cup. She was a manageable woman; the same
scourge had its instant wholesome effect on her when she snubbed the
secretary.

So she complimented his trencherman's knife, of which the remarkably
fine edge was proof enough that he had come heart-whole out of the trial
of an hour or so's intimate companionship with a beautiful woman, who
had never been loved, never could be loved by man, as poor Mr. Morsfield
loved her! He had sworn to having fasted three whole days and nights
after his first sight of Aminta. Once, he said, her eyes pierced him so
that he dreamed of a dagger in his bosom, and woke himself plucking at
it. That was love, as a born gentleman connected with a baronetcy and
richer than many lords took the dreadful passion. A secretary would have
no conception of such devoted extravagance. At the most he might have
attempted to insinuate a few absurd, sheepish soft nothings, and the
Countess of Ormont would know right well how to shrivel him with one
of her looks. No lady of the land could convey so much either way, to
attract or to repel, as Aminta, Countess of Ormont! And the man, the
only man, insensible to her charm or her scorn, was her own wedded lord
and husband. Old, to be sure, and haughty, his pride might not allow him
to overlook poor Mr. Morsfield's unintentional offence. But the presence
of the countess's aunt was a reply to any charge he might seek to
establish. Unhappily, the case is one betwe