"They're too wild for dear Miranda," said Marchmont mater; "the pet you mean is the last sweet insect you have collected; is it not, my dear child?" she said, anxious for the fair fame of the owner of the fine exhibit in elbow and collar bone.
"Yes, mamma, you are right, but I am so sorry Mr. Douglas is not at one with me; I feel convinced the dear potato bug comes from the east; he is of brilliant colouring and luxurious habit."
Rev. Robert Douglas laughingly shook his head, and Sir Dennis said:
"Miss Marchmont, you cannot imagine the wager Capt. Trevalyon was laying when you talked about the 'bronzed beauty;' he wanted some one to take him up at ten to one you meant a dashing cavalry man, or a 'go-as-he-please' infantry."
"Order! order! O'Gormon," interrupted Trevalyon, laughing.
"Oh! I'm shocked, Capt. Trevalyon," cried Miss Marchmont seriously, "that my dear potato bug, with all his innocent ways, its care of its eggs,—."
Here a general laugh went round the table, except from Marchmont mere, who tried in vain to catch the fair Miranda's eye, who continued bravely, "should be taken for anything so wild as a soldier, who doesn't do anything so useful. But I must convert you, Mr. Douglas," she continued, returning to the siege; "it would be such a sweet study for a clergyman; I shall lend you Cassels' Natural History, and you must promise to read it for my sake," she said gushingly.
Meanwhile, Trevalyon tried in vain to catch the drift of conversation between Vaura and her neighbour, but no, Mrs. Marchmont, though inwardly afraid of this squire of dames; and of his intellect, determined to appear at ease, and so talked on the one engrossing idea of her life; the last conundrum in fancy work, the last fashionable incongruity in the blending of colours. And poor, victimized Lionel longed to breathe in Vaura's refreshing breadth of thought; on his tormentor pausing to recover breath, it was not as balm to a wound to hear Sir Dennis say pleadingly:
"The gardens of the Collona palace are looking lovely in their tints of emerald; it will transport me to my loved isle, Miss Vernon, if you'll walk with me there some day; though our damsels are not fair as the companion I desire, and her rich beauty would add grace to the spot."
"Come, come, Sir Dennis, no flattery, I am jealous for the beauty of those gardens, and do not want to hear, even in jest, my poor looks would add to their charm," she answered gaily, and evading his question.