people to sleep than the keeping them awake, “At any rate,” Miss Lutterworth continued, “if any one was somnolently inclined he would be far too polite to say anything to arouse them.”
“He has been flirting with somebody else,” thought Lady Fanny; but for once she kept her reflections to herself. Turning round, she walked off to Rochford, and pounced upon him in her usual unceremonious style. “What do you think?” she said. “My old friend, Helen Lutterworth, says that you are the most stupid person she has ever met. Now, don’t look angry, because it is no use. But I can’t allow this at any price. People say that we are very much alike, and therefore I feel personally interested that you should do credit to the resemblance—so come at once, and show her that she is mistaken.”
She had seized him by the wrist as she was speaking, then twisting his am under her own, she carried him off in triumph to the other side of the room, and deliberately jammed him down on an ottoman by the side of Miss Lutterworth, to that young lady’s surprise and horror, for she guessed at once that her observations on Rochford had just been repeated to him.
If, however, she imagined that this would occasion any awkwardness on his part, she was quite mistaken, for though he had been piqued for a moment he was the best natured fellow in the world, and it had at once occurred to him that he had given too much reason for the lady’s strictures. He was therefore quite prepared to obey his cousin’s commands, and endeavour to redeem his character.
Lady Fanny seated herself on a low chair opposite to the ottoman, and in half a minute the trio were deep in conversation, which was soon variegated by bursts of laughter from the ladies. At dinner, Rochford sat in his old place, Lady Fanny was on the other side of the table. Miss Lutterworth and Rochford talked incessantly about everything and everybody; the unfortunate Alfred was not even able to slip in a word edgeways. Lady Mourningthorpe looked daggers at them, and determined that they should not be such near neighbours again if she could possibly help it. But, alas! in a country house, if you separate people at dinner, you cannot help their being together all the rest of the day.
When the ladies retired, Lady Fanny said to her friend, “I watched you two all dinner time, but I did not detect the slightest signs of somnolency.”
“Ah,” said Helen, laughing, “it was only by constantly asking him questions that I could subdue the symptoms.”
“I see, just as when people have been taking too much laudanum, you must always make them ‘move on.’”
The next day but one Fred Mourningthorpe arrived. When all the respectable members of the household had retired to rest, he carried off Rochford to his sanctum. There was a gigantic bowl of Curacoa punch steaming on the table.
“Now, old boy, we can walk into the affections of this little lot, and smoke some cavendish I have just got in, until an azure hue pervades all things,: which, being interpreted, means till all’s blue, or till daylight doth appear, you pays your money, &c. Now, I know you are longing to hear all about it. This is how it was. It was at a ball given by the Clodshire Militia—all of ours went. Now, I never can stand the champagne you get at those places—too filling at the price. I meant to have stuck to malt all the evening, but the beer ran short after supper, and I was obliged to take to the gooseberry. Well, I had been dancing a good deal with Polly Fluffington, sister of old Fluffington, of ours; finished but five-and-thirty if she is a day. I know it was the third galop after supper. There was a little room off the ball-room that one or two adventurous couples used to back into occasionally; you could hear the music all right, by distance made more sweet, &c. Well, somehow we got in there, how I never knew. I think she backed me in without my knowing where I was going, but I won’t swear to it. We were the only couple there, and were taking it easy until we got into our second wind, when all at once, instead of keeping her head over my shoulder, as is seemly in a Christian young woman, she drew it back until her lips were close to mine. Of course I kissed her-upon my life I thought she expected it. Besides, through some mysterious intervention, that kind of girl always looks better after supper. But what do you think she did?”
Rochford made a feint of planting “one, two,” in the most approved fashion.
“No;” she said, “‘Oh, Frederick, this indeed is happiness,’” and fainted right off.
“\Vell, I handed her over to the proper authorities. They soon brought her round, and I gave her a tumbler of champagne, to which she took very kindly. I had forgotten all about it, when the next morning, just as I was doing some soda and B, in rushed her brother, the old major, shook me by both hands, and went off at score in the heavy father style, called me ‘his dear boy,’ told me she had three thousand pounds, and that there would be his little savings when he went off the hooks. I don’t believe the old scoundrel has anything beyond a second pair of spurs in the world. I was so taken aback, I had not got a word to say. The moment he was gone I sat down and wrote to you. Then Sluicer came in. Not a bad fellow, Sluicer. I told him about it, and asked his advice. The only thing he could suggest was that I should drink myself into a fit of delirium tremens, then I could say, that my health would not permit my forming a matrimonial connection at present. ‘And if you like to try it, old fellow,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind drinking glass for glass with you, for the first week.’ Friendly of Sluicer, was it not?”
“But how did you get out of it at last?” said Rochford. “I hope I am not taking Sluicer’s place to-night.”
“Oh, no! that is all over,” said Fred (filling his fourth tumbler). “The luckiest thing in the world. Young Huggins, son of a button-maker, who left him half a million at least, had been away on leave. He had been rather sweet in that quarter before, and when he came back they nobbled him and threw me over. His delight at the idea of cutting me out let him in for it.”
