"I am sorry for poor Lady St Julians," said Lady Bardolf to
Lady de Mowbray. "It must be such a disappointment, and she
has had so many; but I understand there is nobody to blame but
herself. If she had only left the Prince alone, but she would
not be quiet!"
"And where are the Deloraines?"
"They are at Munich; with which they are delighted. And Lady
Deloraine writes me that Mr Egremont has promised to join them
there. If he do, they mean to winter at Rome."
"Somebody said he was going to be married," said Lady de
Mowbray.
"His mother wishes him to marry," said Lady Bardolf; "but I
have heard nothing."
Mr Mountchesney came in and greeted the Bardolfs with some
warmth. "How delightful in the country in August to meet
somebody that you have seen in London in June!" he exclaimed.
"Now, dear Lady Bardolf do tell me something, for you can
conceive nothing so triste as we are here. We never get a
letter. Joan only corresponds with philosophers and Maud with
clergymen; and none of my friends ever write to me."
"Perhaps you never write to them?"
"Well, I never have been a letter writer; because really I
never wanted to write or to be written to. I always knew what
was going on because I was on the spot; I was doing the things
that people were writing letters about--but now not being in
the world any longer, doing nothing, living in the country--
and the country in August--I should like to receive letters
every day, but I do not know who to fix upon as a
correspondent.
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