"Pish! nonsense! "cried Mr. Croyland, "Hold your tongue, Bab. You're a good soul as ever lived, but a great fool into the bargain. So don't meddle. I should think you had burnt your fingers enough with it by this time." "And I'm sure you're a good soul, too, if you would but let people know it," replied Mrs. Barbara, anxious to soften and keep down all the little oddities and asperities of her family circle in the eyes of Sir Edward Digby. But she only showed them the more by so doing; for Mr. Croyland was not to be caught by honey; and, besides, the character which she, in her simplicity, thought fit to attribute to him, was the very last upon the face of the earth which he coveted. Every man has his vanity; and it is an imp that takes an infinite variety of different forms, frequently the most hideous or the most absurd. Now Mr. Croyland's vanity lay in his oddity and acerbity. There was nothing on earth which he considered so foolish as good-nature; and he was heartily ashamed of the large portion with which Heaven had endowed him. "I a good soul!" he exclaimed. "Let me tell you, Bab, you are very much mistaken in that, as in every other thing you say or do. I am nothing more nor less than a very cross, ill-tempered old man; and you know it quite well, if you wouldn't be a hypocrite." "Well, I do believe you are," said the lady, with her own particular vanity mortified into a state of irritation, "and the only way is to let you alone." While this conversation had been passing between brother and sister, Sir Edward Digby, taking advantage of the position in which they stood, and which masked his own operations from the rest of the party, bent down to speak a few words to Edith, who, whatever they were, looked up with a smile, faint and thoughtful indeed, but still expressing as much cheerfulness as her countenance ever showed. The topic which he spoke upon might be commonplace, but what he said was said with grace, and had a degree of originality in it, mingled with courtliness and propriety of expression, which at once awakened attention and repaid it. It was not strong beer--it was not strong spirit--but it was like some delicate kind of wine, which has more power than the fineness of the flavour suffers to be apparent at the first taste.