“And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion will be decidedly in his favour.  I have heard so much in praise of Mr. Frank Churchill.—­At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means implicitly guided by others.  I give you notice that as I find your son, so I shall judge of him.—­I am no flatterer.”

Mr. Weston was musing.

“I hope,” said he presently, “I have not been severe upon poor Mrs. Churchill.  If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me to speak of her with the forbearance I could wish.  You cannot be ignorant, Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the treatment I have met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of it is to be laid to her.  She was the instigator.  Frank’s mother would never have been slighted as she was but for her.  Mr. Churchill has pride; but his pride is nothing to his wife’s:  his is a quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort of pride that would harm nobody, and only make himself a little helpless and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance and insolence!  And what inclines one less to bear, she has no fair pretence of family or blood.  She was nobody when he married her, barely the daughter of a gentleman; but ever since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill’d them all in high and mighty claims:  but in herself, I assure you, she is an upstart.”

“Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking!  I have quite a horror of upstarts.  Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give themselves!  Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them directly.  People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense airs, and expecting to be on a footing with the old established families.  A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived at West Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows.  They came from Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr. Weston.  One has not great hopes from Birmingham.  I always say there is something direful in the sound:  but nothing more is positively known of the Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to my brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest neighbours.  It is infinitely too bad.  Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him—­I believe, at least—­I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed the purchase before his death.”

They were interrupted.  Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away.