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CHAPTER IX.-THE INITIALS

Word Count: 2386    |    Released on: 17/11/2017

llim was supplying us with iced claret-cup from a great silver tankard presented to Sir Madoc's uncle by his regiment, the Ancien

he entrance hall, and across the lawn towards us, with the contents of the household post-bag. She seemed to have letters for every one, save me--letters which she dropped a

ttered apologies,

which he grew very white, exhibited great tre

ausing with a slice of cold fowl on h

" he replied, with an affected la

whom a "horsey" topic

'pots' this season, my nag

of joc

and si

he

--York

at dryly; but perceiving that his guest was awkwardly placed, he changed the subje

arrives here to-morrow and hopes h

se. His comforts shall

ut this, and not to Sir Mado

remarked Lady Estelle, as if

mpts to mount, and they go round in circles, eyeing each other suspiciously till a groom comes; and when he does achieve his saddle, he drops his whip or his gloves, or twists his stirrup-leather. And yet it is this old fogie whose drag at Epsom or the De

sed her for this sketch of my rival, at which Sir Madoc, and even Estell

richest peers, Miss Dora, and his

heedless girl, still laughing. "O, wo

said the Countess, turning from Dora with a very dubious expression of eye, and closing a let

change, or ch

ith

then,

of her own, and preferred some one e

to the young lady's hap

ng to me, mamma," said

rather have had the young earl for her son-in-law than the old viscount, even though the patent of the latter h

d I, "is your despat

death-losses at Varna, and he fears our leave may be cancelled. 'Deuced awkward if we

thout one?" said I;

iculty of attainment, always enhance the value of the object to be won. Yet in the instance of Lady Estelle I was not so foolish as poor Price of ours, the butt of the mess, who always fell in love with the wrong person--to whom the pale widow, inconsolable in her first crape; the blooming bride, in her clouds of tulle and whit

s, and the town in general, proved somewhat of a bore. He fidgeted, and ultimately left for the stables, where he and Bob Spurrit had to hold a grave consultation on certain equine ailments. The ladies also rose to leave us; but Caradoc, Guilfoyle, and I lingered under the cool shadow of the oaks, and lit our cigars. With his silver case for holding

thrust it into a breast-pocket this time; "a narrow squeak

an was to me a puzzle. With all his disposition to boast, he never spoke of relations or of family; yet he seemed in perfectly easy circumstances; his own valet, groom, and horses were at Craigaderyn; he could bear himself well and with perfect ease in the best society; and it was evident that, wherever th

oiselle Babette, was waiting to carry it away. Since the remarks or contretemps concerning the York races he had been as mute as a fish; and now, when he did begin to speak in the absence of Sir Madoc, I could perceive that gratitude for kindness did not form an ingredient in the strange compound of w

ere for the 1st, I

and growing crop, to knock over a few partridges and rabbits" (partwidges and

hear this with incredulo

k up all over the house. 'County people' in the days of Howel Dha; 'county ditto' in the days of Queen Victoria, and likely to remain so till the next flood forms a second great epoch in the family history. Ve

t Philip Caradoc, more Celtic and fiery by nature, anticipated me by saying sharply, "Bad taste this, surely in you, Mr. Guilfoyle

ll--who

" added Phil, looking h

every one has ha

oc, whose cheek began to flush; but the ot

e nobility of one's ancestors is like looking among the

that, though his tone was quiet and his manner suave, a glassy glare sho

ople inspired by a nationality so strong, that they will speak only the language of the Cymri; and it is among those chiefly that our regiment has ever been recruited. Bu

ll are beautiful, even to Miss

Mr. Guilfoyle," said I, in a

he permits herself t

unintentional

ir

" said I, as we simultaneousl

Dora herself came again tripping down the bro

me old dear, he will be among the

he matter?

, and interesting, was found among the tombstones by Farmer Rhuddlan, quite in a helpless faint, aft

s she?" as

y; but at her neck hangs a gold locket, with a crest, the date, 1st of September, on one s

wkesby Guilfoyle," said he, with ill-concealed ange

iful but unwitting tormentor; "H. H. G

e open it?

as firmly

et spring,

the effect of the sunlight flashing on his face through the

ntic, but fortunately in the present has no point whatever. If my initia

pliment or bit of flattery, he ended an unpleasant co

ned irresolute

it my future co

utiful smile, and a soft blush of

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