human
How kind of you to come to me! she breathed,
gpt
Are we friends? she queried, with her head a little drooped on one side, and eyes raised inquiringly.
human
Are you going to forget my naughty petulance? Papa and I have been so angry at ourselves that we let you go.
gpt
All that is forgotten, dear Lady Julie.
human
You are such a good creature, to be sure! But now tell me, what is this wonderful matter of life and death? demanded my lady, whose eyes were roving round the massive furniture and lordly size of the old room, as if they were accustomed to take stock.
gpt
I could not resist such a tragic invitation; but I was not alarmed, for you always had such a strange way of putting things. Now do tell me, Margaret, dear!--there is nobody half as much interested as I am--are you really going to marry him after all? Such is the report.
human
Nothing has been settled yet, answered Margaret, quietly.
gpt
Take a seat near the fire, Lady Juliana. I expect some visitors in a few minutes, and you may as well be well warmed before you are presented.
human
Does St. Udo expect to see me? she asked, coquettishly.
gpt
Is he aware that I was to come?
human
He is unconscious of your presence, my lady.
gpt
Ah, ha! Too jealous to tell him! Ah, ha! Margaret, my dear, so you are afraid of his old flame! Well, it isn't surprising. Everybody gets jealous of me. I am considered so very pretty, and I vow I have become so accustomed to being envied that I don't feel comfortable unless half a dozen women are glaring at me with jealousy!
human
Heartless as ever, my Lady Julie.
gpt
Portentous as ever, my tragic muse. Well, well, don't be so stiff with me, your Julie--why should you? I am so curious to know something about you. I think you are a most extraordinary woman. Are you going to be the mistress of Seven-Oak Waaste after all?
human
I intend to retain possession of it.
gpt
And to marry St. Udo? Heigh, ho! my old lover. Is he much enamored with you? Inconstant wretch! he might have run up to Hautville, if it was only to taunt me with my cruelty in jilting him. I don't seem to have got on much better for having been so obedient to papa; positively I am without a matrimonial expectation; without even an _attache_, except my snip of a cousin Harry, who cant marry anybody until his uncle Henry and three sons die. The Duke of Piermont has gone back to Ireland, and is supposed to be either mad or writing a book. My own opinion is, that he has fallen in love with some stock-jobber's daughter, or nameless orphan, and that his family have interfered, to prevent a shameful _mesalliance_.