people to dinner. Mr. Arbuthnot never
will talk when there are people to dinner. But Mr. Arbuthnot has got
a very nice place in Warwickshire, and they say he'll come in for the
county some day."
"Of course, mamma, if there should be anything of that sort, we
should not be rich people, like Isabella and Mr. Arbuthnot."
"Not at first, dear."
"Neither first nor last. But I don't care about that. If you and papa
will like him, and--and--if it should come to that!--Oh, mamma, he is
so good, and so clever, and he understands things, and talks about
things as though he knew how to make himself master of them. And he
is honest and proud. Oh, mamma, if it should be so, I do hope you
will love him."
And then Lady Staveley promised that she would love him, thinking
nevertheless that had things gone differently she would have extended
a more motherly warmth of affection to Peregrine Orme.
And about this time Peregrine Orme made another visit to Noningsby.
His intention was to see the judge, explaining what steps his
grandfather had taken as to The Cleeve property, and then once more
to have thrown himself at Madeline's feet. But circumstances as they
turned out prevented this. Although he had been at some trouble to
ascertain when the judge would be at Noningsby, nevertheless, on his
arrival, the judge was out. He would be home, the servant said,
to dinner, but not before; and therefore he had again seen Lady
Staveley, and after seeing her had not thrown himself at Madeline's
feet.
He had made up his mind to give a systematic and detailed account of
his pecuniary circumstances, and had selected nearly the very words
in which this should be made, not actuated by any idea that such a
process would have any weight with Madeline, or by any means assist
him with her, but hoping that he might thus procure the judge's
permission to press his suit. But all this preparation and all his
chosen words were of no use to him. When he saw Lady Staveley's face
he at once knew that she had no comfort to offer to him. "Well," he
said; "is there any chance for me?" He had intended to speak in a
very different tone, but words which have been prepared seldom manage
to fit themselves into their appropriate places.
"Oh, Mr. Orme," she said, taking him by the hand, and holding it. "I
wish it were different; I wish it could be different."
"There is no hope then?" And as he spoke there was a sound in his
voice as though the tidings would
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