“I take it, Mr. Grenfell invites him to please himself. He is very lonely yonder at the Cottage. He says he has made no acquaintances, and I suppose that even Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle is better than solitude--not that I should think so myself.” “But you show that too plainly, Ma Mie. There are no feelings we ought so strictly to control, so far as the manifestations go, as our distastes to people in society.” “I think he hates _me_.” “That would be impossible, child. He may be afraid of your wit; he may not like to encounter your repartee; he may feel, and not unreasonably, that he does not stand high in your favour, and this may impart a degree of constraint to his manner.” “I have not seen the constraint, Sir, but I have the dislike, and it was so perfectly mutual, I was glad of it.” “Another mistake, Ma Chere, and a great mistake. The people who really like us need no caressing. The blandishments should be all reserved for the doubtful--just as we administer cordials to the weak.” “I do my best, Sir, but I own I do not approach it with a good grace. Do you really wish me to become a favourite with this young gentleman?” “Nay, Ma Mie, you go too far. Your nature is like a pendulum, that swings if it be but breathed on. I did not say so much as that. I simply meant, that I should prefer if he were to carry away from us a pleasant impression of his visit. His father and I have had some discussions of a kind I cannot easily forget. In a long life of affairs, I have not met one, no, not one, who carries the virtue of candour to the pitch of my respected relative, or who imparts home truths with a more telling sincerity.” “Well, Sir, if I understand you aright, I am to captivate Mr. Ladarelle, but not to fall in love with him.” “Mademoiselle,” said he, gravely, “there was not such a word as love dropped in the entire discussion. I have told you that with the relations which subsist between the elder Mr. Ladarelle and myself it would be as well if a kindlier sentiment connected me with the young man. We shall probably have matters to discuss to which each of us ought to bring all the courtesy in his power.” “Who cut down the large elm, Gardy?” cried she, suddenly pointing to a clearing in the wood, where a gigantic trunk had just been felled. “It was I, Ma Chere. I ordered it; intending to make a vista yonder, so that we should see the great tower; but Mr. Ladarelle has stopped me with a protest, and as I abhor a lawsuit, I think I shall submit.” “Just watch how the Cid will take the timber; he’s glorious oyer a stump!” “Kate--my dear Kate--it’s too high; don’t do it. Come back, I entreat; I order you to come back!” cried he, as she dashed into the open, and with her horse beautifully in hand, cantered him at the tree. Perhaps it was in the seeming carelessness of her hand--for horses have an instinct rarely deceptive as to the intention of the rider--perhaps a mere caprice, but the Cid swerved as he came up and refused the leap.