"She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley," interrupted Mr. Templeton,
grimly.

"The she-hypocrite!" thought Ferrers. "Oh, I am delighted that your
pious heart has found so congenial a helpmate!"

"It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it. This is the way to
the house."

Lumley, now formally installed in a grave bedroom, with dimity curtains
and dark-brown paper with light-brown stars on it, threw himself into a
large chair, and yawned and stretched with as much fervour as if he
could have yawned and stretched himself into his uncle's property. He
then slowly exchanged his morning dress for a quiet suit of black, and
thanked his stars that, amidst all his sins, he had never been a dandy,
and had never rejoiced in a fine waistcoat--a criminal possession that
he well knew would have entirely hardened his uncle's conscience against
him. He tarried in his room till the second bell summoned him to
descend; and then, entering the drawing-room, which had a cold look even
in July, found his uncle standing by the mantelpiece, and a young,
slight, handsome woman, half-buried in a huge but not comfortable
/fauteuil/.

"Your aunt, Mrs. Templeton; madam, my nephew, Mr. Lumley Ferrers," said
Templeton, with a wave of the hand.

"John,--dinner!"

"I hope I am not late!"