“I am sorry that my behavior is not sufficiently good for you. You never found any cause to complain of it when our surroundings were less aristocratic. I am quite ashamed of taking so much of your valuable time. GOOD-morning.” “Good-morning. But I do not see why you are in such a rage.” “I am not in a rage. I am only grieved to find that you are corrupted by luxury. I thought your principles were higher. Good-morning, Miss Goff. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again in this very choice mansion.” “Are you really going, Wallace?” said Alice, rising. “Yes. Why should I stay?” She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him; for he had expected her to detain him and make advances for a reconciliation. Before they could exchange more words, Bashville entered. “Good-bye,” said Alice, politely. “Good-bye,” he replied, through his teeth. He walked loftily out, passing Bashville with marked scorn. He had left the house, and was descending the terrace steps, when he was overtaken by the footman, who said, civilly, “Beg your pardon, sir. You’ve forgotten this, I think.” And he handed him a walking-stick. Parker’s first idea was that his stick had attracted the man’s attention by the poor figure it made in the castle hall, and that Bashville was requesting him, with covert superciliousness, to remove his property. On second thoughts, his self-esteem rejected this suspicion as too humiliating; but he resolved to show Bashville that he had a gentleman to deal with. So he took the stick, and instead of thanking Bashville, handed him five shillings. Bashville smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no, sir,” he said, “thank you all the same! Those are not my views.” “The more fool you,” said Parker, pocketing the coins, and turning away. Bashville’s countenance changed. “Come, come, sir,” he said, following Parker to the foot of the stops, “fair words deserve fair words. I am no more a fool than you are. A gentleman should know his place as well as a servant.” “Oh, go to the devil,” muttered Parker, turning very red and hurrying away. “If you weren’t my mistress’s guest,” said Bashville, looking menacingly after him, “I’d send you to bed for a week for sending me to the devil.” CHAPTER V