"Dear Babbington-Cole,—Am very pleased to hear of your safe arrival; have important business, so cannot wait; in fact arrangements for the immediate marriage of my niece to yourself; kindly come out at once, on your return.
"Yours sincerely,
"Timothy Stone."
"The net is well laid," thought poor Cole; "they are bound to rope me in; how strange it all seems; even my name sounds unfamiliar, having at home, in dear old Toronto, dropped the Babbington; but I must adorn myself for the altar." And once more he seeks retirement in his own chamber. "Hang that evolution of a woman's corsets and curling tongs, viz., the modern dude! such a choking and tightening a fellow's throat and legs undergo; I wonder if my shrinking bride will expect me to kneel to her. Ah! there goes for a rip; under the knee, though, as luck would have it; not being quite educated up to a chamois pad and face powder, my modest Pearl will have to be satisfied with candle and throat moulds. I wonder if she will compliment me on my handsome black moustache, as my women friends at home do; and now to fortify myself with dinner, or at least oysters and a glass of stout. Hang it, how faint and dizzy I feel."
CHAPTER IX.
VULTURES HABITED AS CHRISTIAN PEW-HOLDERS.
In due time his hansom enters the gates of Broadlawns; at the door he is met by Mr. Stone.
"Welcome to England and Broadlawns," said the spider to the fly, his ferret-like eyes scanning his victim eagerly, as if to read whether he would give him trouble. "We have been expecting you for twenty-four hours; the ladies have been most anxious. Simon, bring this gentleman's baggage upstairs, to the east room; and put in an appearance soon, Babbington-Cole, or the ladies will think you a myth."
"Thank you; as I dressed at Morley's, I shall be with you in a few moments," responded Cole, in subdued accents, feeling that struggles would be now of no avail, that he was well in their net; but the house itself would have depressed him under any circumstances. It was solid, massive, thick-set gloom; happiness and mirth were far away; the cold, chill atmosphere of distrust, dislike, deceit and hypocrisy dwelt in its dark corridors and gloomy apartments. The last gleam of "Home, sweet home," had fled with the spirit of the second wife of its late master; she, poor thing, was wont to say, "Broadlawns is like a lovely, smiling face, with a black, lying heart; its exterior is bright with Nature's beauteous flowers, its interior a very Hades."
Miss Villiers and Miss Stone rose to greet Mr. Cole on his entering the gloomy, but handsomely furnished oak drawing-room; his first glance at the former served to show him that the lady who had wished he might come to his senses under the feet of her horse and Miss Villiers were one and the same.
"Jove! that vixen," he thought; "but, thank Heaven, there are two daughters; the other is my one, for my father says she is the prettiest girl in all England, and this one, ugh, she makes one's flesh creep."