They will do you harm. And
remember life and death are not in our hands. Besides--"
"Well?"'
"Sir Charles might--"
"Well?"
"Might he not--marry--and have children?" This with more hesitation and
a deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary.
"Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends.
Charles is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton--fast at Oxford--fast
in London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three years
younger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man.
Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they
are mine--"
"Sir Charles Bassett!" trumpeted a servant at the door; and then
waited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught
blushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another.
"Wait a moment," said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring what
Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she
said, hurriedly: "You should not blame him for the faults of others.
There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am little
entitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends. He is
very good, I assure you, and very nice. Let me reconcile you two. _May_
I?"
This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed--if I
may be permitted--in a way to dissolve a bear.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25