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Updated: June 1, 2025
Elsmere bought a teapot for herself with half the fervour which she now threw into the purchase of Robert's; and the young man, accustomed to a rather bare home, and an Irish lack of the little elegancies of life, was overwhelmed when his mother actually dragged him into a printseller's, and added an engraving or two to the enticing miscellaneous mass of which he was already master.
Ruskin was here last week, and there are ever so many new names in the visitors' book! While the girls went in, Elsmere stood looking a moment at the inn, the bridge, and the village. It was a characteristic Westmoreland scene.
As to Miss Leyburn, he had so far only exchanged a bow with her, but he was watching her now, as he sat opposite to her, out of his quick observant eyes. She, too, was in white. As she turned to speak to the youth at her side. Elsmere caught the fine outline of the head, the unusually clear and perfect moulding of the brow, nose, and upper lip.
Flaxman's country house, had been planned, he knew, for weeks. And certainly nothing could be very wrong with Mrs. Leyburn, or Catherine would have been warned. 'I am afraid your plans must be greatly put out, he said, with some embarrassment. 'Of course they are, replied Flaxman, with a dry smile. He stood opposite Elsmere, his hands in his pockets.
When the Elsmeres rose to go, she said good-by to Catherine with an excessive politeness, under which her poor guest, conscious of her own gaucherie during the evening, felt the touch of satire she was perhaps meant to feel. But when Catherine was well ahead Madame de Netteville gave Robert one of her most brilliant smiles. 'Friday evening, Mr. Elsmere; always Fridays. You will remember?
'It do seem strange, sir, as nor he nor Doctor Grimes 'ull let her have anything to put a bit of flesh on her, nothin' but them messy things as he brings milk an' that. An' the beef jelly lor! such a trouble! Missis Elsmere, he tells my wife, strains all the stuff through a cloth, she do; never seed anythin' like it, nor my wife neither. People is clever nowadays, said the speaker dubiously.
No one was ever more ready to take other men and women at their own valuation than he. Nothing was so easy to him as to believe in other people's goodness, or cleverness, or super-human achievement. On the other hand, London is kind to such men as Robert Elsmere.
It was the first of June, and the spell of warmth in which Robert Elsmere had arrived was still maintaining itself. An intelligent foreigner dropped into the flower-sprinkled valley might have believed that, after all, England, and even Northern England, had a summer.
She placed her own in it, slowly, with a look which filled Catharine's eyes once more with tears. "Trust me!" said Meynell, as he pressed the hand. "Indeed you may." Then he turned to Catharine Elsmere "I think Mrs. Elsmere is with me that she approves?" "With one reservation." The words came gravely, after a moment's doubt. His eyes asked her to be frank.
Elsmere, described Robert's Oxford career, with an admirable sense for effect, and a truly feminine capacity for murdering every university detail, drew pictures of the Murewell living, and rectory, of which Robert had photographs with him, threw in adroit information about the young man's private means, and in general showed what may be made of a woman's mind under the stimulus of one of the occupations most proper to it.
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