"Dame Rumour says I did," he answered with the utmost sang-froid.
"Nonsense; saddle it on the right man, my dear fellow; mark me, 'tis his doing; whatever may be his present reason, he is now, as, then, thoroughly unprincipled, and always your foe."
"Tis true, Haughton; but the weather is too warm for a brawl," he said, lazily.
"Eleven! o'clock," exclaimed the rector, "I must bid you both good-night; Haughton, you have my best wishes; we shall be more glad than I can say to have you among us again, and the other dear ones, Lady Esmondet and our sweet Vaura; good-bye, Trevalyon, I am full of regrets, that in giving you Dame Rumour's words, I have lent an unpleasant tone to your thoughts.
"You have nothing to regret, Douglas, I am too well accustomed to Dame Rumour's pleasantries; she only serves poor Fanny Clarmont up in a new dress; as 'hidden wife,' she has never been presented before. Good-bye; I wish I could remain at the dear old place all night, then we would both stroll across the park with you."
"That would have been pleasant; hoping soon to meet again; good- night, and fare you both well."
The rector gone, the dog-cart is again in requisition; at the station,
Haughton says heartily—
"Good-bye, dear old friend; I am sorry you will not be with me to the last, but I shall look forward to your spending a couple of months with me in the autumn, ere going up for the season; good-night, I feel all the better since our talk."
"Good-bye, Eric, good-bye; my heart is to full for many words. God bless you! Farewell."
And with a long, firm pressure of the hand and look from the eyes, the friends, with the friendship of Orestes and Pylades, part.