ith his usual cold, distant, half-stately,
half-melancholy, altogether injured air; but Esther made no remark upon
it this time: she had evidently been schooled into better manners. She
talked to me, and laughed and romped with little Arthur, her loved and
loving playmate. He, somewhat to my discomfort, enticed her from the
room to have a run in the hall, and thence into the garden. I got up to
stir the fire. Mr. Hargrave asked if I felt cold, and shut the door--a
very unseasonable piece of officiousness, for I had meditated following
the noisy playfellows if they did not speedily return. He then took the
liberty of walking up to the fire himself, and asking me if I were aware
that Mr. Huntingdon was now at the seat of Lord Lowborough, and likely to
continue there some time.

'No; but it's no matter,' I answered carelessly; and if my cheek glowed
like fire, it was rather at the question than the information it
conveyed.

'You don't object to it?' he said.

'Not at all, if Lord Lowborough likes his company.'

'You have no love left for him, then?'

'Not the least.'

'I knew that--I knew you were too high-minded and pure in your own nature
to continue to regard one so utterly false and polluted with any feelings
but those of indignation and scornful abhorrence!'

'Is he not your friend?' said I, turning my eyes from the fire to his
face, with perhaps a slight touch of those feelings he assigned to
another.

'He was,' replied he, with the same calm gravity as before; 'but do not
wrong me by supposing that I could continue my friendship and esteem to a
man who could so infamously, so impiously forsake and injure one so
transcendently--well, I won't speak of it. But tell me, do you never
think of revenge?'

'Revenge! No--what good would that do?--it would make him no better, and
me no happier.'

'I don't know how to talk to you, Mrs. Huntingdon,' said he, smiling;
'you are only half a woman--your nature must be half human, half angelic.
Such goodness overawes me; I don't know what to make of it.'

'Then, sir, I fear you must be very much worse than you should be, if I,
a mere ordinary mortal, am, by your own confession, so vastly your
superior; and since there exists so little sympathy between us, I think
we had better each look out for some more congenial companion.' And
forthwith moving to the window, I began to look out for my little son and
his gay young friend.

'No, I am the ordinary mortal, I m