tering the family which contained
his charmer.

The Merry Wives were parodied by the hysterical maids. Charlotte might
afford to laugh, but Marianne's heart was more in the matter, and they
struck up such a chorus that Jane broke upon them, declaring that they
would frighten Mrs. James Frost out of her senses. When Charlotte told
her what was the matter, her comment was, 'And a very good thing, too,
that you should find him out in time! A pair of silly girls you! I
always was thankful I never could write, to be deluded with nonsense by
the post; and I am more so than ever now! Come, leave off crying,
Marianne; he ain't worth it.'

'But how shall we answer him, Mrs. Beckett?' said Charlotte.

'Never demean yourself to answer him,' said Jane; 'let him never hear
nought about you--that's the best for the like of him. I can tell him
he need not be in no hurry about giving warning to Lady Conway. At
Cheveleigh we'll have a solemn, steady butler, with no nonsense, nor
verses, nor guitars--forty years old--and a married man.'

Charlotte took the advice, and acted with dignified contempt and
silence, relieved to imagine that Tom had never been in danger from
such a rival. Marianne did not divulge the tender and melancholy
letter of reproach that she posted privately; but she grew paler, and
coughed more, all that bright summer.

Mrs. Frost had refused to let any cause remove her from Northwold,
until after an event which it was hoped would render James less
disdainful of his inheritance. But--'Was there ever anything more
_contrary_?' exclaimed Jane, as she prepared to set out the table for a
grand tea. 'There's Master James as pleased and proud of that there
little brown girl, as if she was as fine a boy as Master Henry himself.
I do believe, upon my word, it is all to spite poor dear Master Oliver.'

Poor Jane, she was almost growing tart in her partizanship of Oliver.

The little brown girl was no dove of peace. Her father decidedly
triumphed in the mortification that her sex was to others of the
family; and though he averred that the birth of a son would not have
made him change his mind, he was well satisfied to be spared the attack
which would have ensued. Oliver, like Jane, appeared to regard the
poor child as a wilful offence, and revenged himself by a letter
announcing that Clara would be his heiress, information which Mrs.
Frost kindly withheld from her granddaughter, in the hope of a
reconciliation.