“Poor Sir Gareth! I fear you are right, Mr. Whyteleafe: I should make him such an odiously dull wife, should I not?”

“A man of his frivolous tastes might think so,” he agreed. “To a man of more serious disposition, however—But on this head I must not, at present, say more.”

He then made her a bow, looking at her in a very speaking way, and withdrew, leaving her hovering between amusement and consternation.

Her sister-in-law, who had not failed to mark the exchange, from the other end of the Long Gallery, where the party had assembled after dinner, did not hesitate, later, to ask her what had been said. “For if he had the effrontery to speak to you about this offer your papa has received, I hope you gave him a sharp set-down, Hetty! Such presumption! But there! I don’t doubt your papa egged him on. I promise you I made no bones about telling him that capping hounds to a scent won’t do in this case.”

“Thank you: that was kind. But Mr. Whyteleafe didn’t try to persuade me. Indeed, he said that he had told my father he would not, which I thought very courageous in him.”

“Ay, that was what made Lord Brancaster as sulky as a bear. I’ll tell you what, Hetty, you’ll do well to accept Ludlow’s offer before Widmore puts it into your father’s head that you mean to have a beggarly parson for your husband.”

“But I don’t,” said Hester.

“Lord, I know that! But I have eyes in my head, and I can see that Whyteleafe is growing extremely particular in his attentions. The devil of it is that Widmore has seen it too, and you know what a slowtop he is, my dear! Your father’s another. I don’t doubt he said something to put you in a tweak.”

“Oh, no!” Hester said calmly.

“At all events, he told you Ludlow was still moping for that girl he was betrothed to the deuce knows how many years ago!” said Lady Widmore bluntly. “If you take my advice, you won’t heed him! I never saw a man less in the dumps than Ludlow.”