"Well, Lucy, I hope you liked your companion," Mrs. Robarts said, as
the three of them clustered round the drawing-room fire before
dinner.

"Oh, yes; pretty well," said Lucy.

"That is not at all complimentary to his lordship."

"I did not mean to be complimentary, Fanny."

"Lucy is a great deal too matter-of-fact for compliments," said Mark.

"What I meant was, that I had no great opportunity for judging,
seeing that I was only with Lord Lufton for about ten minutes."

"Ah! but there are girls here who would give their eyes for ten
minutes of Lord Lufton to themselves. You do not know how he's
valued. He has the character of being always able to make himself
agreeable to ladies at half a minute's warning."

"Perhaps he had not the half-minute's warning in this case," said
Lucy,--hypocrite that she was.

"Poor Lucy," said her brother; "he was coming up to see Ponto's
shoulder, and I am afraid he was thinking more about the dog than
you."

"Very likely," said Lucy; and then they went in to dinner. Lucy had
been a hypocrite, for she had confessed to herself, while dressing,
that Lord Lufton had been very pleasant; but then it is allowed to
young ladies to be hypocrites when the subject under discussion is
the character of a young gentleman.

Soon after that Lucy did dine at Framley Court. Captain Culpepper, in
spite of his enormity with reference to Gatherum Castle, was still
staying there, as was also a clergyman from the neighbourhood of
Barchester with his wife and daughter. This was Archdeacon Grantly,
a gentleman whom we have mentioned before, and who was as well known
in the diocese as the bishop himself--and more thought about by many
clergymen than even that illustrious prelate. Miss Grantly was a
young lady not much older than Lucy Robarts, and she also was quiet,
and not given to much talking in open company. She was decidedly a
beauty, but somewhat statuesque in her loveliness. Her forehead was
high and white, but perhaps too like marble to gratify the taste
of those who are fond of flesh and blood. Her eyes were large and
exquisitely formed, but they seldom showed much emotion. She, indeed,
was impassive herself, and betrayed but little of her feelings. Her
nose was nearly Grecian, not coming absolutely in a straight line
from her forehead, but doing so nearly enough to entitle it to be
considered as classical. Her mouth, too, was very fine--artists, at
least, said so, and connoisseurs in beauty;