Elton arrived in due course, to find his friend with his arm in a sling, swollen and painful.
"You'd better have a surgeon, old fellow, or you'll not fill another bag this October."
Not until his arm had turned black would he consent; then the surgeon was called, he looked grave, saying that a great part of the pen had not been extracted; that ink, pen, and rust had done their work, and to save his life the arm must be amputated. This the poor fellow refused to do, saying he would rather die than sever his good right hand from his body.—If he could not hold a gun, nor ride Titan with the hounds he would go. He would be sorry to leave Evy, but Posey could do very well without him, and breathing a prayer for his soul, Harold, Duke of Wyesdale, was gone.
And now after her year of fashionable mourning, his widow is pluming herself in colours, and Dame Rumour hath it that the somewhat fair, slightly faded dowager Duchess having buried her dead, will not say nay to another wooer. She was, as usual, posing in a corner of her carriage, and priding herself on her slight, girlish figure; wore no wraps; looking blue and chilly, for when one was driving the air was just fresh enough for something warmer than a gown of pale blue silk.
"Why will women go about looking as if Jack Frost had just given them a chilly embrace?" said Lionel, his gaze dwelling admiringly on Vaura's warm beauty, arrayed in short, tight-fitting black velvet jacket, small white plush bonnet, scarlet feathers and scarlet and white strings tied at one side of her pretty chin.
"The azure heavens framing fair angels; quite a sufficient robing, and appropriate; oh! grumbler," laughed Vaura.
"She is no amazon, and should wear other than silken armour, ma belle."
"Cupid's darts can easier penetrate," said Vaura, gaily.
"Not through a chilled heart, as compared with a warm one," he answers, quietly.
"Can one be cold in Italia. I do believe Old Sol pauses over us in his chariot, and smiles love-warm smiles upon us all," she continued.