He threw himself into a war of words with her, and enjoyed it
extremely. Her brilliant coloring, her gestures as fresh and untamed
as the movements of the leaping river outside, the mixture in her
of girlish pertness and ignorance with the promise of a remarkable
general capacity, made her a most taking, provoking creature. Mrs.
Thornburgh--much recovered in mind since Dr. Baker had praised the
pancakes by which Sarah had sought to prove to her mistress the
superfluity of naughtiness involved in her recourse to foreign
cooks--watched the young man and maiden with a face which grew more
and more radiant. The conversation in the garden had not pleased
her. Why should people always talk of Catherine; Mrs. Thornburgh
stood in awe of Catherine and had given her up in despair. It was
the other two whose fortunes, as possibly directed by her, filled
her maternal heart with sympathetic emotion.

Suddenly in the midst of her satisfaction she had a rude shock.
What on earth was the vicar doing? After they had got through
better than anyone could have hoped, thanks to a discreet silence
and Sarah's makeshifts, there was the master of the house pouring
the whole tale of his wife's aspirations and disappointment into
Mrs. Seaton's ear! If it were ever allowable to rush upon your
husband at table and stop his mouth with a dinner napkin, Mrs.
Thornburgh could at this moment have performed such a feat. She
nodded and coughed and fidgeted in vain!

The vicar's confidences were the result of a fit of nervous
exasperation. Mrs. Seaton had just embarked upon an account of
'our charming time with Lord Fleckwood.' Now Lord Fleckwood was a
distant cousin of Archdeacon Seaton, and the great magnate of the
neighborhood--not, however, a very respectable magnate. Mr. Thornburgh