"Indeed, it was not that. But he was asked to preach, you know; and Mr. Harold Smith—" Poor Fanny was only making it worse. Had she been worldly wise, she would have accepted the little compliment implied in Lady Lufton's first rebuke, and then have held her peace.
"Oh, yes, the Harold Smiths! they are irresistible, I know: How could any man refuse to join a party graced both by Mrs. Harold Smith and Mrs. Proudie—even though his duty should require him to stay away?"
"Now, mamma—" said Justinia.
"Well, my dear, what am I to say? You would not wish me to tell a fib. I don't like Mrs. Harold Smith—at least, what I hear of her; for it has not been my fortune to meet her since her marriage. It may be conceited; but, to own the truth, I think that Mr. Robarts would be better off with us at Framley than with the Harold Smiths at Chaldicotes, even though Mrs. Proudie be thrown into the bargain."
It was nearly dark, and therefore the rising color in the face of Mrs. Robarts could not be seen. She, however, was too good a wife to hear these things said without some anger within her bosom. She could blame her husband in her own mind, but it was intolerable to her that others should blame him in her hearing.
"He would undoubtedly be better off," she said; "but then, Lady Lufton, people can't always go exactly where they will be best off. Gentlemen sometimes must—"
"Well, well, my dear, that will do. He has not taken you, at any rate, and so we will forgive him." And Lady Lufton kissed her. "As it is"—and she affected a low whisper between the two young wives—"as it is, we must e'en put up with poor old Evan Jones. He is to be here to-night, and we must go and dress to receive him."
And so they went off. Lady Lufton was quite good enough at heart to like Mrs. Robarts all the better for standing up for her absent lord.
