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"But she herself has changed," he urged, eagerly. Mrs. Marchmont smiled incredulously and pityingly. "How little you know the world!" she said. "In what do you expect all your sentiment to end? Only sentiment? You say you purpose being a home missionary. Can you imagine for a moment that one situated as she is would contemplate such a life? Her parents would as soon bury her."
O thank you!" said Marian, too much surprised and embarrassed to make much of her thanks; nor did her wonder diminish as, unfolding the paper, she beheld a blue watered silk binding, richly embossed, with the title of "The Wreath of Beauty," and soon there lay before her, in all the smoothness of India paper and mezzotint, a portrait, beneath which she read the name of Selina, Viscountess Marchmont.
Lord Marchmont came in several times to speak to his wife, but Marian did not see much of him till dinner-time, and then she liked him very much.
He shaded his candle with his hand, and the light struck back, showing a strong and rosy and likable face. "Faith!" he said, "an' I thought I was after hearin' a noise. Good-evenin', gentlemen or rather good-morning, for it must be toward cockcrow. What " "It's not so late as that," interrupted Marchmont. "I wish I had your recipe for sleeping, father.
He says, 'Except Lord Bathurst, none of Pope's noble friends were such as that a good man would wish to have his intimacy with them known to posterity . This will not apply to Lord Mansfield, who was not ennobled in Pope's life-time; but Johnson should have recollected, that Lord Marchmont was one of those noble friends.
He banged the bandbox down on the table, and flinging himself into a chair, buried his face in his hands. "Come, come," remonstrated Marchmont, "we must be brave, we must be composed. Tell Dr. Thorndyke your story, and let us hear what he thinks of it."
"Yes, there is," replied Marchmont. "We shall come to that presently. To proceed with the narrative: On the fifteenth of last March he was found dead in his chambers, and a more recent will was then discovered, dated the twelfth of November of last year.
"How sweetly English the fire in the grate looks," observed Mrs. Marchmont. "Yes, it does; but while at home we really require it to keep away cold, here it is more to remind us of the warm sun gone to rest," said Lady Esmondet.
Hollo! who has given her a black eye?" till they had not left her a single beauty. Marian hoped the subject was quite forgotten, when she had hidden away the book under all her others: but the nest time there was a dinner-party, Mrs. Lyddell desired her to fetch it, to show to some one who knew Lady Marchmont.
She turned away, melting into the crowd. Marchmont, with malicious pleasure, watched Einsbacher's discomfited retreat. In her cabin Felicity collected all the donors' cards from her flowers and, stepping outside, with a faint smile dropped them into the sea. It was the end of April, and Paris rustled gaily in her spring dress.
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