She now drew her arm round her uncle’s neck, and kissed him, which made him exult prematurely.

“Then, dear uncle,” said she lovingly, “you must tell Mr. Talboys that I thank him for the honor he does me, and that I decline.”

“Accept, you mean?”

“No I don’t—­ha! ha!”

Her laugh died rapidly away at sight of the effect of her words.  Mr. Fountain started, and his face turned red and pale alternately.

“Refuse my friend—­refuse Talboys in that way?  Thoughtless girl, you don’t know what you are doing.  His family is all but noble.  What am I saying? noble? why, half the House of Peers is sprung from the dregs of the people, and got there either by pettifogging in the courts of law, or selling consciences in the Lower House; and of the other half, that are gentlemen of descent, not two in twenty can show a pedigree like Talboys.  And with that name a princely mansion—­antiquity stamped on it—­stands in its own park, in the middle of its vast estates, with title-deeds in black-letter, girl.”

“But, uncle, all this is encumbered—­”

“It is false, whoever told you so.  There is not a mortgage on any part of it—­only a few trifling copyholds and pepper-corn rents.”

“You misunderstand me; I was going to say, it is encumbered with a gentleman for whom I could never feel affection, because he does not inspire me with respect.”

“Nonsense! he inspires universal respect.”

“It must be by his estates, then, not his character.  You know, uncle, the world is more apt to ask, ’What has he, then what is he?’”

“He is a polished gentleman.”

“But not a well-bred one.”

“The best bred I ever saw.

“Then you never looked in a glass, dear.  No, dear uncle, I will tell you.  Mr. Talboys has seen the world, has kept good society, is at his ease (a great point), and is perfect in externals.  But his good manners are—­what shall I say?—­coat deep.  His politeness is not proof against temptation, however petty.  The reason is, it is only a spurious politeness.  Real politeness is founded and built on the golden rule, however delicate and artificial its superstructure may be.  But, leaving out of the question the politeness of the heart, he has not in any sense the true art of good-breeding; he has only the common traditions.  Put him in a novel situation, with no rules and examples to guide him, he would be maladroit as a school-boy.  He is just the counterpart of Mr. Dodd in that respect.  Poor Mr. Dodd is always shocking one by violating the commonest rules of society; but every now and then he bursts out with a flash of natural courtesy so bright, so refined, so original, yet so worthy of imitation, that you say to yourself this is genius—­the genius of good-breeding.”

Mr. Fountain chafed with impatience during this tirade, in which he justly suspected an attempt to fritter away a serious discussion.