"I wish to see him."
"Certainly, madam.--James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, and
send Mr. Vandeleur to her."
"He is not violent, is he?" said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate when
she saw there was no opposition.
"Not at all, madam--the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money about
you, it might be as well to confide it to me."
"What, will he rob me?"
"Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you
out of it."
"No fear of that, sir." And she followed James.
He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the
window, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease,
reading or working in the sun.
"Poor things!" she thought; "they are not so very miserable: perhaps
God comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching
would do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let
me; they lean on the arm of flesh."
Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and
in came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning
smile he had put on for conquest.
He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded.
At last he burst out, "Somer--Was it me you wished to see?"
"Yes," said she, very kindly. "I came to see you for old acquaintance.
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