He raised appealing hands. “No, I prithee! Flattery--the very mess of pottage for which he sold his birthright as a man! A lord, Mrs. Davis, from the very moment he becomes one, hath parted with sincerity.” “No, sure?” “Yes, indeed; and for it exchanged the eternal adulation of the hypocrite, paid not to his merits but his title. The base thenceforth surround him; the worthy keep their distance, lest old friendships, once frankly mutual, be suspected of self-interest. He knows no truth but such as he may read in its withholding; he knows no love but such as loves his rank before himself. Was he not a goose to be a lord--to part with truth and love--to give himself to be devoured by parasites in a hundred forms?” He smiled, appealing and a little melancholy. The lady lifted her brows. “Lud!” she said. “And to think we in the country only know but two--the one that hops and the one that doesn’t!” His lordship gave a slight start and cough. “Exactly,” he said: “yes, exactly.” He stiffened, clearing his throat, then smiled again, but painfully. “So flatter me not,” he said. “Be your sweet, candid self, to earn my gratitude. You cannot know what it would mean to me to win at last a woman’s unaffected sympathy. Will you not extend to me the friendship which is already, I understand, my wife’s?” Her eyes twinkled, her mouth twitched, as she stood before him. “What is the matter?” he asked, in mild surprise. “You--you do look so droll,” she said, and burst into a fit of laughter. He was inclined to be very incensed, but with good sense made a moral vault of it, and landed lightly the other side of his own temper. Once there, he could afford to echo the hussy’s merriment. “You are a bad girl,” he said, grinning, and shaking a finger; “but I can see we are going to be great friends. Hist, though!” He looked about him cautiously, and then approached her. “Stand and deliver,” said she, and backed a little. “No, no,” he said; “on my honour, I only wish a word in confidence.” “O, I know that word!” she said. “I’m not so young but I’ve learned to crack nuts with my own teeth.” “Here it is, then,” he said, coming no farther. “There’s this difficulty in the way of our good understanding--that it can owe no encouragement to my lady, your friend.” “Why not, now?” “Why, the truth is, we’re--we’re not on speaking terms.” “Lord-a-mussy! What’s the matter?” “O, these little domestic differences; they will occur! Unsuited, I suppose. It was her suggestion; but it makes things somewhat awkward for the moment.” He heaved a profound sigh. “Alone--always alone, you see! What a goose to be a lord!” She eyed him roguishly. “She’s been finding out things about you: don’t tell me!” He sighed again. “What a goose, what a goose!” and then started, as if remembering something. “O! and there’s another secret.” “Another?” said she, thrilled; and irresistibly she leaned her ear towards him.