“Pray, on no account venture on the ice,” cried Clemence; “the weather is so much milder to-day, that I feel sure that there must be a thaw.”
“I suppose,” said Louisa very pertly, “that I may use my own judgment in the matter. I happen to possess a little common sense, and have not the slightest wish to be drowned.”
“I am sure that you are greatly indebted to Mrs. Effingham for her tender anxiety on your account,” said Lady Selina very ironically, glancing up from the last number of Punch.
“That old mischief-maker!” thought Captain Thistlewood; “we should all get on well enough but for her! What a blessing it would be to Clemence if the proud dame could once be got out of the house.—Well, young folk!” he said aloud, “if you want some one to see that you don’t make ducks and drakes of yourselves, I’m your man; I’ll go to the park with you myself!”
“We don’t want your company,” said the schoolboy rudely; “I can take care of my sister.”
“A footman will follow us,” added Louisa superciliously; “I may meet friends in the park, and it would cause too great a sensation amongst them if I were to be seen escorted by Captain Thistlewood!” and so saying, with a mock reverence she quitted the room, and was followed by Vincent whistling.
The old sailor did not appear to understand the implied satire, or to be aware that an earl’s granddaughter could possibly be ashamed to be seen with an unfashionable companion. But if his simplicity warded the insult from himself, it glanced off from him to wound the more sensitive spirit of his niece.
“You will escort me, dear uncle,” said Clemence; “it will be such a pleasure to walk with you again!”
“Presently, my dear,” replied the captain, seating himself on the sofa, of which the greater part was occupied by the stiff silk flounces of Lady Selina.
“I will put on my bonnet—”