ndsomer: so
is Sir James Lowther much richer: yet pray, ma'am, do you suppose I am
going to be jealous of any one of these three, or think my Theo would
jilt me for their sakes? Why should I not allow that Miss Lydia is
handsomer, then? and richer, and clever, too, and lively, and well bred,
if you insist on it, and an angel if you will have it so? Theo is not
afraid: art thou, child?"

"No, George," says Theo, with such an honest look of the eyes as would
convince any scepticism, or shame any jealousy. And if, after this pair
of speeches, mamma takes occasion to leave the room for a minute to
fetch her scissors, or her thimble, or a bootjack and slippers, or the
cross and ball on the top of St. Paul's, or her pocket-handkerchief
which she has forgotten in the parlour--if, I say, Mrs. Lambert quits
the room on any errand or pretext, natural or preposterous, I shall not
be in the least surprised, if, at her return in a couple of minutes, she
finds George in near proximity to Theo, who has a heightened colour, and
whose hand George is just dropping--I shall not have the least idea of
what they have been doing. Have you, madam? Have you any remembrance of
what used to happen when Mr. Grundy came a-courting? Are you, who, after
all, were not in the room with our young people, going to cry out fie
and for shame? Then fie and for shame upon you, Mrs. Grundy!

Well, Harry being away, and Theo and George irrevocably engaged, so
that there was no possibility of bringing Madam Esmond's little plans to
bear, why should not Mrs. Lambert have plans of her own; and if a rich,
handsome, beautiful little wife should fall in his way, why should
not Jack Lambert from Oxford have her? So thinks mamma, who was always
thinking of marrying and giving in marriage, and so she prattles to
General Lambert, who, as usual, calls her a goose for her pains. At any
rate, Mrs. Lambert says beauty and riches are no objection; at any rate,
Madam Esmond desired that this family should be hospitably entertained,
and it was not her fault that Harry was gone away to Canada. Would
the General wish him to come back; leave the army and his reputation,
perhaps; yes, and come to England and marry this American, and break
poor Hetty's heart--would her father wish that? Let us spare further
arguments, and not be so rude as to hint that Mr. Lambert was in the
right in calling a fond wife by the name of that absurd splay-footed
bird, annually sacrificed at the Feas