Now my lady was always inclined to stand by her order, and the Lathoms of Hathaway Court were cousins to the Hanbury’s.  Besides, it was rather a point of honour in those days to encourage a young magistrate, by passing a pretty sharp sentence on his first committals; and Job Gregson was the father of a girl who had been lately turned away from her place as scullery-maid for sauciness to Mrs. Adams, her ladyship’s own maid; and Mr. Gray had not said a word of the reasons why he believed the man innocent,—­for he was in such a hurry, I believe he would have had my lady drive off to the Henley Court-house then and there;—­so there seemed a good deal against the man, and nothing but Mr. Gray’s bare word for him; and my lady drew herself a little up, and said—­

“Mr. Gray!  I do not see what reason either you or I have to interfere.  Mr. Harry Lathom is a sensible kind of young man, well capable of ascertaining the truth without our help—­”

“But more evidence has come out since,” broke in Mr. Gray.  My lady went a little stiffer, and spoke a little more coldly:—­

“I suppose this additional evidence is before the justices:  men of good family, and of honour and credit, well known in the county.  They naturally feel that the opinion of one of themselves must have more weight than the words of a man like Job Gregson, who bears a very indifferent character,—­has been strongly suspected of poaching, coming from no one knows where, squatting on Hareman’s Common—­which, by the way, is extra-parochial, I believe; consequently you, as a clergyman, are not responsible for what goes on there; and, although impolitic, there might be some truth in what the magistrates said, in advising you to mind your own business,”—­said her ladyship, smiling,—­“and they might be tempted to bid me mind mine, if I interfered, Mr. Gray:  might they not?”

He looked extremely uncomfortable; half angry.  Once or twice he began to speak, but checked himself, as if his words would not have been wise or prudent.  At last he said—­“It may seem presumptuous in me,—­a stranger of only a few weeks’ standing—­to set up my judgment as to men’s character against that of residents—­” Lady Ludlow gave a little bow of acquiescence, which was, I think, involuntary on her part, and which I don’t think he perceived,—­“but I am convinced that the man is innocent of this offence,—­and besides, the justices themselves allege this ridiculous custom of paying a compliment to a newly-appointed magistrate as their only reason.”

That unlucky word “ridiculous!” It undid all the good his modest beginning had done him with my lady.  I knew as well as words could have told me, that she was affronted at the expression being used by a man inferior in rank to those whose actions he applied it to,—­and truly, it was a great want of tact, considering to whom he was speaking.

Lady Ludlow spoke very gently and slowly; she always did so when she was annoyed; it was a certain sign, the meaning of which we had all learnt.