James made no answer.

'Are you disappointed in him, dear James?' she continued.

'I could not be disappointed,' he answered, shortly.

'Poor man--he has a poor welcome among you,' said Louis.

'Welcome is not to be bought,' said James. 'I could not stand
hearing him reply to poor granny's heartfelt rapture with his riches
and his Cheveleigh, as if that were all she could prize.'

Steps were mounting the stairs, and the alert, sharp tones of Oliver
were heard--'Married then? Should have waited--done it in style.'

James and Isabel glanced at each other in amused indignation; and
Mrs. Frost entered, tremulous with joy, and her bright hazel eyes
lustrous with tears, as she leant on the arm of her recovered son.
He was a little, spare, shrivelled man, drolly like his nephew, but
with all the youthfulness dried out of him, the freckles multiplied
by scores, and the keen black eyes sunken, sharpened, and surrounded
with innumerable shrewd puckers. The movements were even more brisk,
as if time were money; and in speech, the small change of particles
was omitted, and every word seemed bitten off short at the end; the
whole man, in gesture, manner, and voice, an almost grotesque
caricature of all James's peculiarities.

'Mrs. Roland Dynevor, I presume? said Oliver, as Isabel came forward
to meet him.