Felix was not the sort of person whom she
was desirous of admitting to her confidence in domestic matters. "Isabel
is an addition to my household since you were here last," she answered
shortly.
"Young and pretty?" inquired Felix. "Ah! you look serious, and you
don't answer me. Young and pretty, evidently. Which may I see first, the
addition to your household or the addition to your picture-gallery? You
look at the picture-gallery--I am answered again." He rose to approach
the archway, and stopped at his first step forward. "A sweet girl is a
dreadful responsibility, aunt," he resumed, with an ironical assumption
of gravity. "Do you know, I shouldn't be surprised if Isabel, in the
long run, cost you more than Hobbema. Who is this at the door?"
The person at the door was Robert Moody, returned from the bank. Mr.
Felix Sweetsir, being near-sighted, was obliged to fit his eye-glass in
position before he could recognize the prime minister of Lady Lydiard's
household.
"Ha! our worthy Moody. How well he wears! Not a gray hair on his
head--and look at mine! What dye do you use, Moody? If he had my open
disposition he would tell. As it is, he looks unutterable things, and
holds his tongue. Ah! if I could only have held _my_ tongue--when I
was in the diplomatic service, you know--what a position I might have
occupied by this time! Don't let me interrupt you, Moody, if you have
anything to say to Lady Lydiard."
Having acknowledged Mr. Sweetsir's lively greeting by a formal bow,
and a grave look of wonder which respectfully repelled that vivacious
gentleman's flow of humor, Moody turned towards his mistress.
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