them she said in a voice, now low enough, 'I cannot prevent him from talking nonsense, Augusta; but you will bear me witness, that I do not willingly hear it.' And, so saying, she started off almost in a run towards a distant part of the gardens, in which she saw Beatrice.
Frank, as he walked up to the house with his sister, endeavoured to induce her to give him a promise that she would tell no tales as to what she had heard and seen.
'Of course, Frank, it must be all nonsense,' she had said; 'and you shouldn't amuse yourself in such a way.'
'Well, but Guss, come, we have always been friends; don't let us quarrel just when you are going to be married.'
But Augusta would make no promise. Frank, when he reached the house, found the countess waiting for him, sitting in the little drawing-room by herself,—somewhat impatiently. As he entered he became aware that there was some peculiar gravity attached to the coming interview. Three persons, his mother, one of his younger sisters, and the Lady Amelia, each stopped him to let him know that the countess was waiting; and he perceived that a sort of guard was kept upon the door to save her ladyship from any undesirable intrusion.
The countess frowned at the moment of his entrance, but soon smoothed her brow, and invited him to take a chair ready prepared for him opposite to the elbow of the sofa on which she was leaning. She had a small table before her, on which was her teacup, so that she was able to preach at him nearly as well as though she had been ensconced in a pulpit.
'My dear Frank,' said she, in a voice thoroughly suitable to the importance of the communication, 'you have to-day come of age.'
Frank remarked that he understood that such was the case, and added that 'that was the reason of all the fuss.'
'Yes; you have to-day come of age. Perhaps I should have been glad to see such an occasion noticed at Greshamsbury with some more suitable signs of rejoicing.'
'Oh, aunt! I think we did it all very well.'
'Greshamsbury, Frank, is, or at any rate ought to be, the seat of the first commoner in Barsetshire.'
'Well; so it is. I am quite sure there isn't a better fellow than father anywhere in the county.'
The countess sighed. Her opinion of the poor squire was very different from Frank's. 'It is no use now,' said she, 'looking back to that which cannot be cured. The first commoner in Barsetshire should hold a position—I will not of course say equal to that of a peer.'
