Lord Marney had all the
petty social vices, and none of those petty social weaknesses
which soften their harshness or their hideousness. To receive
a prince of the blood or a great peer he would spare nothing.
Had he to fulfil any of the public duties of his station, his
performance would baffle criticism. But he enjoyed making the
Vicar of Marney or Captain Grouse drink some claret that was
on the wane, or praise a bottle of Burgundy that he knew was
pricked.
Little things affect little minds. Lord Marney rose in no
very good humour; he was kept at the station, which aggravated
his spleen. During his journey on the railroad he spoke
little, and though he more than once laboured to get up a
controversy he was unable, for Lady Marney, who rather dreaded
her dull home, and was not yet in a tone of mind that could
hail the presence of the little Poinsett as full compensation
for the brilliant circle of Mowbray, replied in amiable
monosyllables, and Egremont himself in austere ones, for he
was musing over Sybil Gerard and a thousand things as wild and
sweet.
Everything went wrong this day. Even Captain Grouse was not
at the Abbey to welcome them back. He was playing in a
cricket match, Marney against Marham.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265