When their purchases were ended, she took her leave with
a kind smile, which went on glowing in Mary's heart long after
she had vanished.
"Home, John," said Lady Margaret, the moment the two ladies were
seated. "I hope you have got _all_ you wanted. We shall be
late for luncheon, I fear. I would not for worlds keep Mr.
Redmain waiting.--A little faster, John, please."
Hesper's face darkened. Sepia eyed her fixedly, from under the
mingling of ascended lashes and descended brows. The coachman
pretended to obey, but the horses knew very well when he did and
when he did not mean them to go, and took not a step to the
minute more: John had regard to the splendid-looking black horse
on the near side, which was weak in the wind, as well as on one
fired pastern, and cared little for the anxiety of his mistress.
To him, horses were the final peak of creation--or if not the
horses, the coachman, whose they are--masters and mistresses the
merest parasitical adjuncts. He got them home in good time for
luncheon, notwithstanding--more to Lady Margaret's than Hesper's
satisfaction.
Mr. Redmain was a bachelor of fifty, to whom Lady Margaret was
endeavoring to make the family agreeable, in the hope he might
take Hesper off their hands. I need not say he was rich. He was a
common man, with good cold manners, which he offered you like a
handle. He was selfish, capable of picking up a lady's
handkerchief, but hardly a wife's.
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