'My gold shall be in Smilinda's coffers the morning that I get back to town, 'he said.
'You must go at once,' she exclaimed, 'we must lose no time. Stay. I will travel with you to-morrow morning if you will favour me with your company'; and so a new flow of compliments carried the South Sea out of sight. But a minute or two later Mr. Kelly, chancing to look down at the hearth, said, quite inconsequently:
'We must not forget to thank Lady Mary.'
Smilinda followed the direction of his eyes, and saw that Lady Mary's letter had tumbled out of the fire and now lay, half burnt, but the other half only curled up and scorched. She shivered as though she was cold, and the better to warm herself knelt down on the hearth-rug. Then she took up the letter (which Kelly must not see) and carelessly tossed it into the fire.
'You know Lady Mary,' she said. 'Yes, you told me.'
'I do, indeed,' said Kelly, with a smile.
'I could wish you did not,' said her ladyship with a frown. Smilinda made it plain that she was jealous. Kelly laughed heartily at the assumption, which was in truth ridiculous enough.
'Who am I,' said he, 'that I should attract Lady Mary's fancy,'
'You are--my Strephon,' replied Smilinda, with a sigh of exquisite tenderness.
Kelly argued the matter on other grounds. Smilinda listened to them all.