"I assure you, Penelope, you could discern an Englishwoman the instant she appeared in the street. Her walk is firm and good, but her shawl and bonnet is only English. I had such a lecture from De Nolis! He made me put aside all my Shropshire habiliments, and I was obliged to be entirely refitted by Le Boi."
"Well, by Jove!" cried Tom Pynsent, "that was not _my_ doing: De Nolis was the ladies' favourite, and he turned my little wife's head about dress. I liked her just as well in her stout silk pelisse, that put me in mind of Wetheral and Shrewsbury."
Anna Maria playfully placed her hand upon her husband's lips.
"Do be quiet, Tom, and don't be so very English."
Tom Pynsent kissed the little hand which enforced silence, and held it in his own capacious palm. Anna Maria drew her chair closer to her husband, and, leaning her head against his side as he stood near, continued her discourse.
"Upon my word, papa, I liked Paris dearly, but Tom complained of this, and disliked that. He would not eat his dinner, because it was stewed frogs; he said he would not eat frogs--he would not drink sour wine--he would not do any thing to be comfortable."
"I wanted to come home in a fortnight," said Tom, still playing with his lady's hand; "but my little wife would not listen to me. De Nolis and herself led me a pretty dance, I can tell you. Hang me, if I understood their jargon in Paris, and I only knew Jack Smith, and Tom Biddulph, to talk with. Spottiswoode was at Florence; De Nolis jabbered away every where with my wife; while I and Jack amused ourselves with quizzing Biddulph. My wife had never any leisure to write home, or talk to _me_."
"No, I vow you were always laughing and talking with that French fellow, and his cursed broken English."
"But who ever saw me without _you_, Tom? and what pleasure should I have had, if you had not been close to me?"
Anna Maria clasped her husband's hand with an air and manner so affectionate, that all hearts present felt assured of her domestic happiness. Her father's expressive face became enlivened, and Mrs. Pynsent almost involuntarily gave Anna Maria a startling slap upon her shoulder, as she cried,--
"I'm a happy woman, since my Tom is loved by us all alike. I tell you what, young woman, I fancied you could not love my son, because you did not remain to witness his delight with the hounds; but now, I see you _do_ love him, though you will never understand his old mother's fondness."