 to think so, she at once encouraged an imaginary
conversation, in which she took the argument that it was quite impossible Evan
could have been so mad, and others instanced his youth, his wrong-headed
perversity, his ungenerous disregard for his devoted sister, and his known
weakness: she replying, that undoubtedly they were right so far: but that he
could not have said he himself was that horrible thing, because he was nothing
of the sort: which faith in Evan's stedfast adherence to facts, ultimately
silenced the phantom opposition, and gained the day.
    With admiration let us behold the Countess de Saldar alighting on the gravel
sweep of Beckley Court, the footman and butler of the enemy bowing obsequious
welcome to the most potent visitor Beckley Court has ever yet embraced.
 
The despatches of a general being usually acknowledged to be the safest sources
from which the historian of a campaign can draw, I proceed to set forth a letter
of the Countess de Saldar, forwarded to her sister, Harriet Cogglesby, three
mornings after her arrival at Beckley Court; and which, if it should prove false
in a few particulars, does nevertheless let us into the state of the Countess's
mind, and gives the result of that general's first inspection of the field of
action. The Countess's epistolary English does small credit to her Fallowfield
education; but it is feminine, and flows more than her ordinary speech. Besides,
leaders of men have always notoriously been above the honours of grammar.
 
        »My Dearest Harriet,
            Your note awaited me. No sooner my name announced, than servitors in
        yellow livery, with powder and buckles started before me, and bowing one
        presented it on a salver. A venerable butler - most impressive! led the
        way. In future, my dear, let it be de Saldar de Sancorvo. That is our
        title by rights, and it may as well be so in England. English Countess
        is certainly best. Always put the de. But let us be systematic, as my
        poor Silva says. He would be in the way here, and had better not come
        till I see something he can do. Silva has great reliance upon me. The
        farther he is from Lymport, my dear! - and imagine me, Harriet, driving
        through Fallowfield to Beckley Court! I gave one peep at Dubbins's, as I
        passed. The school still goes on. I saw three little girls skipping, and
        the old swing-pole. SEMINARY FOR YOUNG LADIES as bright as ever! I
        should have liked to have kissed the children and given them bonbons
