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Updated: June 26, 2025
"That is Miss Bassett's niece, from America," she said. "Do I understand you know her?" Capt. Barold turned to confront her, evidently annoyed at having allowed a surprise to get the better of him. All expression died out of his face. "I travelled with her from Framwich to Stamford," he said.
And the blindest of the blind could see that nothing would offend Lady Theobald more fatally than to let her be thrown with Francis Barold; and how one is to invite them into the same room, and keep them apart, I'm sure I don't know how. Lady Theobald herself could not do it, and how can we be expected to?
"Pretty good idea, isn't it?" remarked Barold. "Good for the place and all that sort of thing." "To my mind," answered my lady, "it is the worst possible thing which could have happened." Mr. Francis Barold dropped his eyeglass dexterously, and at once lapsed into his normal condition which was a condition by no means favorable to argument. "Think so?" he said slowly.
Slowbridge found itself in a position as difficult as, and far more delicate than, Lady Theobald's. The tea-drinkings in honor of that troublesome young person, Miss Octavia Bassett, having been inaugurated by her ladyship, must go the social rounds, according to ancient custom. But what, in discretion's name, was to be done concerning Mr. Francis Barold?
She was smiling, and slightly flushed, and for a moment or so stood fanning herself with a gay Japanese fan. "Don't you think I am a good teacher?" she asked at length. "I should say so," replied Barold, without enthusiasm. "I am afraid I am not a judge." She waved her fan airily. "I had a good pupil," she said. Then she held her fan still for a moment, and turned fully toward him.
"Isn't she fond enough of you to do any thing you ask her?" Octavia inquired. "Really, I think not," he replied. "Imagine the degree of affection it requires! I am not fond enough of any one to do any thing they ask me." Octavia bestowed a long look upon him. "Well," she remarked, after a pause, "I believe you are not. I shouldn't think so." Barold colored very faintly.
Burmistone's mill, which was at work in all its vigor, with a whir and buzz of machinery, and a slight odor of oil in its surrounding atmosphere. "Ah!" said Mr. Barold, putting his single eyeglass into his eye, and scanning it after the manner of experts. "I did not think you had any thing of that sort here. Who put it up?" "The man's name," replied Lady Theobald severely, "is Burmistone."
"Lucia Gaston," he replied, "would not say that she had been 'plunging' about the garden." She gave herself a moment for reflection. "That's true," she remarked, when it was over: "she wouldn't. When I compare myself with the Slowbridge girls, I begin to think I must say some pretty awful things." Barold made no reply, which caused her to laugh a little again. "You daren't tell me," she said.
Lucia has been brought up immediately under my own eye." "I feel that it is fortunate," remarked Mrs. Barold, quite incidentally, "that Francis need not make a point of money." For a few moments Lady Theobald did not respond; but afterward, in the course of the conversation which followed, she made an observation which was, of course, purely incidental.
Francis Barold preserved an entirely unmoved countenance, the general impression being that he was very much shocked, and concealed his disgust with an effort. "My dear," said Lady Theobald, with an air of much condescension and some grave pity, "I should advise you to try to learn. I can assure you that you would find it a great source of pleasure."
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