"John," she answered, "we are both of a piece in that respect."
"Don't say it, John. You used to laugh at the little lass going off with Edgar and Piers fishing. You used to tease her about the gold brooch Piers gave her. Many a time you have called her to me, 'the little Duchess.'"
"Thou needest not. I wish thou wouldst remind thy son that he has a sister that he might look after a bit."
"I can look after Kate without his help. He is doing far better business than hanging around Dukes."
"If thou wantest a quarrel this morning, Maude, I'm willing to give thee one. I say, Edgar ought to be here."
"What for? He is doing work that we will all be proud enough of some day. Thou oughtest to be helping him, instead of abusing him. I want thee to open this morning's _Times_, and read the speech he made in Glasgow City Hall. Thou couldst not have made such a speech to save thy life."
"Say, I _would not_ have made it, and then thou wilt say the very truth."
"Thou darest not. Thou knowest it would make thee turn round and vote with the Reformers."
"Roast the Reformers! I wish I could! I would not have believed thou couldst have said such a thing, Maude. How darest thou even think of thy husband as a turncoat? Why, in politics, it is the unpardonable sin."
"It is nothing of the kind. Not it! It is far worse to stick to a sin, than to turn from it. If I was the biggest of living Tories, and I found out I was wrong, I would stand up before all England and turn my coat in the sight of everybody. I would that. When I read thy name against Mr. Brougham bringing up Reform, I'll swear I could have cried for it!"
"I wouldn't wonder. All the fools are not dead yet. But I hear Kitty and her lover coming. I wonder what they are talking and laughing about?"
"Thou hadst better not ask them. I'll warrant, Piers is telling her the same sort of nonsense, thou usedst to tell me; and they will both of them, believe it, no doubt."
At these words Piers and Kate entered the room together. They were going for a gallop in the Park; and they looked so handsome, and so happy, that neither the Squire nor Mrs. Atheling could say a word to dash their pleasure. The Squire, indeed, reminded Piers that the House met at two o'clock; and Piers asked blankly, like a man who neither knew, nor cared anything about the House, "Does it?" With the words on his lips, he turned to Kate, and smiling said, "Let us make haste, my dear. The morning is too fine to lose." And hand in hand, they said a hasty, joyful "good-bye" and disappeared. The father and mother watched them down the street until they were out of sight. As they turned away from the window, their eyes met, and Mrs. Atheling smiled. The Squire looked abashed and disconcerted.