Ronder! There was a remarkable
man! Mrs. Combermere was conquered by him, in spite of herself. How, in
seven short months, he had conquered everybody! What an amusing talker,
what a good preacher, what a clever business head! And yet she did not
really like him. His praises now were in every one's mouth, but she did
not _really_ like him. Old Brandon was still her favourite, her old
friend of ten years; but there was no doubt that he _was_ behind the
times, Ronder had shown them that! No use living in the 'Eighties any
longer. But she was fond of him, she did not want him to be unhappy--and
unhappy he was, that any one could see. Most of all, she did not want him
to do anything foolish--and he might, his temper was strange, he was not
so strong as he looked; he had felt his son's escapade terribly--and now
his wife!
"Well, if I had a wife like that," was Mrs. Combermere's conclusion before
she joined Ellen Stiles and Julia Preston, "I'd let her go off with any
one! Pay any one to take her!"
Ellen was, of course, full of it all. "My dear, _what_ do you think
is the latest! They say that the Archdeacon threatens to poison the whole
of the Chapter if they don't let Forsyth have Pybus, and that Boadicea has
ordered Johnny to take a voyage to the Canary Islands for his health, and
that he says he'll see her shot first! And Miss Milton is selling the
letter for a thousand pounds to the first comer!"
Mrs.
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