Bofore she could reply to this ungallant speech, Rose entered the room; and Miss Eliza rising to greet her, they both seated themselves near the fire, where that idle lad, Fergus, was standing, leaning his shoulder against the corner of the chimney-piece, with his legs crossed and his hands in his breeches pockets.
"Now, Rose, I'll tell you a piece of news—I hope you've not heard it before, for good, bad or indifferent, one always likes to be the first to tell—It's about that sad Mrs. Graham ——"
"Hush—sh—sh!" whispered Fergus, in a tone of solemn import. "'We never mention her; her name is never heard.'" And glancing up, I caught him with his eye askance on me; and his finger pointed to his forehead; then, winking at the young lady with a doleful shake of the head, he whispered—"a monomania—but don't mention it—all right but that."
"I should be sorry to injure any one's feelings," returned she, speaking below her breath, "another time, perhaps."
