Once more that vivid blush, too bright for anything but pleasure, came over Nancy’s face. How much scorn, how much defiance, what attempts at insult she had lavished upon Lady Curtis’s name; but Arthur’s mother had called her my dear, had looked at her kindly with soft eyes; and it had come to pass, by some subtle process, that Nancy felt herself to belong to this soft-eyed lady more than she did to good honest Matilda, who had stood by her so stoutly, but who naturally retained the manners of her class, which was not Nancy’s class any more. “Stuff and nonsense!” said Matilda. “She’s not _my_ mother-in-law. She’s very kind, but she’s a deal superior to me; and I’ll speak respectful, whatever you think. They _are_ nice people, as I was saying. Miss Lucy is what I call a perfect lady;” (this, too, jarred upon Nancy’s new-born fastidiousness; but she did not venture to hint that Miss Curtis would be more correct) “and when they saw two young women by themselves, like you and me, of course they took notice. In their own village, these sort of folks are like kings and queens,” said Matilda; “everything belongs to them. It’s not like just being better off. I understand the feeling myself; it’s like what mother used to have for the poor things in the court, to see they went on all straight and sent their children to school, and so forth. Mother was not a great lady, but she was known in the place, and took a charge like; and she was a good woman. There’s a kind of a likeness in good folks,” said Matilda, turning away her head. The mother’s loss was still recent, and made their eyes wet unawares when they spoke of her; but this time Nancy was too much preoccupied to enter into the allusion. Her own thoughts surged up and deadened her appreciation of what her sister said; though Matilda’s ideas, if not brilliant, were often the most sensible of the two. “Yes,” said Nancy, after a pause; “that’s how it must be. I don’t want to leave this little place. I like it; I think I like the country. It may be dull, but it’s nice.” “Very nice,” said Matilda, looking at her seventh chemise affectionately as she finished the trimming and folded it up, giving little pats of satisfaction to each fold, “when you have anything you want to get done with. I should have taken twice the time to do my things if we had stayed at Underhayes.” “But we must go,” said Nancy, continuing. “We might have stayed on if they had taken no notice, if we had kept ourselves shut up, and not seen them; but it can’t be helped now. I will go to the Hall, just to see everything. Fancy sitting down at table with them, being like one of them! It will feel like a dream. Oh, I must, I must go just once! If ever Arthur should come back again--”