" said Elinor, with a flush of annoyance.

And this made Mrs. Dennistoun pause. They ate their breakfast, which was
a very light meal, in silence. It was the day before the wedding. The
rooms down-stairs had been carefully prepared for Phil's sister. Though
Mrs. Dennistoun was too proud to say anything about it, she had taken
great pains to make these pretty rooms as much like a fine lady's
chamber as had been possible. She had put up new curtains, and a Persian
carpet, and looked out of her stores all the pretty things she could
find to decorate the two rooms of the little apartment. She had gone in
on the way down-stairs to take a final survey, and it seemed to her that
they were very pretty. No picture could have been more beautiful than
the view from the long low lattice window, in which, as in a frame, was
set the foreground of the copse with its glimpses of ruddy heather and
the long sweep of the heights beyond, which stretched away into the
infinite. That at least could not be surpassed anywhere; and the Persian
carpet was like moss under foot, and the chairs luxurious--and there was
a collection of old china in some open shelves which would have made the
mouth of an amateur water. Well! it was Lady Mariamne's own loss if she
preferred the chance of picking up a little fun in the evening, to
spending the night decorously in that pretty apartment, and making
further acquaintance with her new sister. It was entirely, Mrs.
Dennistoun said to herself, a matter for her own choice. But she was
much affronted all the same.

"It will be very inconvenient indeed sending a carriage for her, Elinor.
Except the carriage that is to take you to church there is none good
enough for this fine lady. I had concluded she would go in your uncle
Tatham's carriage. It may be very fine to have a Lady Mariamne in one's
party, but it is a great nuisance to have to change all one's
arrangements at the last moment."

"If you were to send the wagonette from the Bull's Head, as rough as
possible, with two of the farm horses, she would think it _genre_, if
not _chic_----"

"I cannot put up with all this nonsense!" cried Mrs. Dennistoun, with a
flush on her cheek. "You are just as bad as they are, Elinor, to suggest
such a thing! I have held my own place in society wherever I have been,
and I don't choose to be condescended to or laughed at, in fact, by any
visitor in the world!"

"Mamma! do you think any one would ever compare you with M