"That is a bad compliment to us," answered Evelyn, ingenuously; "do you
think we are so little worthy your society as not to value it? But,
perhaps" (she added, sinking her voice) "perhaps you have been
offended--perhaps I--I--said--something that--that hurt you!"

"You!" repeated Maltravers, with emotion.

Sophy, who had been attentively listening, here put in, "Shake hands and
make it up with Evy--you've been quarrelling, naughty Ernest!"

Evelyn laughed, and tossed back her sunny ringlets. "I think Sophy is
right," said she, with enchanting simplicity; "let us make it up," and
she held out her hand to Maltravers.

Maltravers pressed the fair hand to his lips. "Alas!" said he, affected
with various feelings which gave a tremor to his deep voice, "your only
fault is that your society makes me discontented with my solitary home;
and as solitude must be my fate in life, I seek to inure myself to it
betimes."

Here--whether opportunely or not, it is for the reader to decide--Mrs.
Merton returned to the room.

She apologized for her absence, talked of Mrs. Hare and the little Master
Hares,--fine boys, but noisy; and then she asked Maltravers if he had
seen Lord Vargrave since his lordship had been in the county. Maltravers
replied, with coldness, that he had not had that honour: that Vargrave
had called on him in his way from the rectory the other day, but that he
was from home, and that he had not seen him for some years.