He would have quickly returned to London, but Dora and her husband were staying with the Stanhopes, and her letters from Stanhope Castle were lachrymose complaints of the utter weariness and dreariness of life there the preaching and reading aloud, the regular walking and driving--all the innocent method of lives which recognized they were here for some higher purpose than mere physical enjoyment. And it angered Mostyn that neither Ruth nor Ethel felt any sympathy for Dora's ennui, and proposed no means of releasing her from it. He considered them both disgustingly selfish and ill-natured, and was certain that all their reluctance at Dora's presence arose from their jealousy of her beauty and her enchanting grace.
On the afternoon of the day preceding the intended entertainment Ruth, Ethel, and the Squire were in the great dining-room superintending its decoration. They were merrily laughing and chatting, and were not aware of the arrival of any visitors until Mrs. Nicholas Rawdon's rosy, good-natured face appeared at the open door. Everyone welcomed her gladly, and the Squire offered her a seat.
"Nay, Squire," she said, "I'm come to ask a favor, and I won't sit till I know whether I get it or not; for if I don't get it, I shall say good-by as quickly as I can. Our John Thomas came home this morning and his friend with him, and I want invitations for the young men, both of them. My great pleasure lies that way--if you'll give it to me."
"Most gladly," answered the Squire, and Ethel immediately went for the necessary passports. When she returned she found Mrs. Nicholas helping Ruth and the Squire to arrange the large silver and cut crystal on the sideboard, and talking at the same time with unabated vivacity.
"Yes," she was saying, "the lads would have been here two days ago, but they stayed in London to see some American lady married. John Thomas's friend knew her. She was married at the Ambassador's house. A fine affair enough, but it bewilders me this taking up marriage without priest or book. It's a new commission. The Church's warrant, it seems, is out of date. It may be right' it may be legal, but I told John Thomas if he ever got himself married in that kind of a way, he wouldn't have father or me for witnesses."
"I am glad," said the Squire, "that the young men are home in time for our dance. The young like such things."
"To be sure they do. John Thomas wouldn't give me a moment's rest till I came here. I didn't want to come. I thought John Thomas should come himself, and I told him plainly that I was ready to do anyone a favor if I could, but if he wanted me to come because he was afraid to come himself, I was just as ready to shirk the journey. And he laughed and said he was not feared for any woman living, but he did want to make his first appearance in his best clothes--and that was natural, wasn't it? So I came for the two lads." Then she looked at the girls with a smile, and said in a comfortable kind of way: "You'll find them very nice lads, indeed. I can speak for John Thomas, I have taken his measure long since; and as far as I can judge his friend, Nature went about some full work when she made a man of him. He's got a sweet temper, and a strong mind, and a straight judgment, if I know anything about men--which Nicholas sometimes makes me think I don't. But Nicholas isn't an ordinary man, he's what you call 'an exception.'" Then shaking her head at Ethel, she continued reprovingly: "You were neither of you in church Sunday. I know some young women who went to the parish church--Methodists they are--specially to see your new hats. There's some talk about them, I can tell you, and the village milliner is pestered to copy them. She keeps her eyes open for you. You disappointed a lot of people. You ought to go to church in the country. It's the most respectable thing you can do."