"I wonder why you _are_ idle--and why you _are_ a failure?" she said, turning upon him a pair of considering eyes. "Take care, Mademoiselle!" he said, gasping a little. "I don't know why you allow yourself these _franchises_!" "Because I am interested in you--rather. Why won't the neighbourhood call on you--why do you have disreputable people to stay with you? It is all so foolish!" she said, with childish and yet passionate emphasis. "You needn't do it!" Meryon had turned rather white. "When you grow a little older," he said severely, "you will know better than to believe all the gossip you hear. I choose the friends that suit me--and the life too. My friends are mostly artists and actors--they are quite content to be excluded from Upcote society--so am I. I don't gather you are altogether in love with it yourself." He looked at her mockingly. "If it were only Sarah--or mamma," she said doubtfully. "You mean I suppose that Meynell--your precious guardian--my very amiable cousin--allows himself to make all kinds of impertinent statements about me. Well, you'll understand some day that there's no such bad judge of men as a clergyman. When he's not ignorant he's prejudiced--and when he's not prejudiced he's ignorant." A sudden remorse swelled in Hester's mind. "He's not prejudiced!--he's not ignorant! How strange that you and he should be cousins!" "Well, we do happen to be cousins. And I've no doubt that you would like me to resemble him. Unfortunately I can't accommodate you. If I am to take a relation for a model, I prefer a very different sort of person--the man from whom I inherited Sandford. But Richard, I am sure, never approved of him either." "Who was he?--I never heard of him." And, with the words, Hester carelessly turned her head to look at a squirrel that had run across the glade and was now peeping at the pair from the first fork of an oak tree. "My uncle? Well, he was an awfully fine fellow--whatever Meynell may say. If the Abbey wasn't taboo, I could show you a portrait of him there--by a Frenchman--that's a superb thing. He was the best fencer in England--and one of the best shots. He had a beautiful voice--he could write--he could do anything he pleased. Of course he got into scrapes--such men do--and if Richard ever talked to you about him, of course he'd crab him. All the same, if one must be like one's relations--which is, of course, quite unnecessary--I should prefer to take after Neville than after Richard." "What was his name?" "Neville--Sir Neville Flood." Hester looked puzzled.