“A box!” exclaimed he indignantly; “a neat little box for the heir of an estate such as this!” “I only mean,” cried she, giddily, “that he might have some place a little more pleasant to live in, for really that old moat and draw-bridge are enough to vapour him to death; I cannot for my life imagine any use they are of; unless, indeed, to frighten away the deer, for nothing else offer to come over. But, if you were to turn the house into a gaol--” “A gaol?” cried Mr Delvile, still more angrily, “your ladyship must pardon me if I entreat you not to mention that word again when you are pleased to speak of Delvile Castle.” “Dear Sir, why not?” “Because it is a term that, in itself, from a young lady, has a sound peculiarly improper; and which, applied to any gentleman's antient family seat,--a thing, Lady Honoria, always respectable, however lightly spoken of!--has an effect the least agreeable that can be devised; for it implies an idea either that the family, or the mansion, is going into decay.” “Well, Sir, you know, with regard to the mansion, it is certainly very true, for all that other side, by the old tower, looks as if it would fall upon one's head every time one is forced to pass it.” “I protest, Lady Honoria,” said Mr Delvile, “that old tower, of which you are pleased to speak so slightingly, is the most honourable testimony to the antiquity of the castle of any now remaining, and I would not part with it for all the new boxes, as you style them, in the kingdom.” “I am sure I am very glad of it, Sir, for I dare say nobody would give even one of them for it.” “Pardon me, Lady Honoria, you are greatly mistaken; they would give a thousand; such a thing, belonging to a man from his own ancestors, is invaluable.” “Why, dear Sir, what in the world could they do with it? unless, indeed, they were to let some man paint it for an opera scene.” “A worthy use indeed!” cried Mr Delvile, more and more affronted; “and pray does your ladyship talk thus to my Lord Duke?” “O yes; and he never minds it at all.” “It were strange if he did!” cried Mrs Delvile; “my only astonishment is that anybody can be found who does mind it.” “Why now, Mrs Delvile,” she answered, “pray be sincere; can you possibly think this Gothic ugly old place at all comparable to any of the new villas about town?” “Gothic ugly old place!” repeated Mr Delvile, in utter amazement at her dauntless flightiness; “your ladyship really does my humble dwelling too much honour!” “Lord, I beg a thousand pardons!” cried she, “I really did not think of what I was saying. Come, dear Miss Beverley, and walk out with me, for I am too much shocked to stay a moment longer.” And then, taking Cecilia by the arm, she hurried her into the park, through a door which led thither from the parlour. “For heaven's sake, Lady Honoria,” said Cecilia, “could you find no better entertainment for Mr Delvile than ridiculing his own house?”