"I wish I could believe that it was his last," returned the General angrily. "The other day, when Mrs. Creery was dining up at my place, she unfortunately shut him up in the drawing-room, and for sheer spite at missing the meal, he tore up a valuable fur rug, gutted the seats of two chairs, and ate the best part of the last army list! Yes, you may laugh, Miss Denis, and it certainly sounds very funny—but you don't know Nip."
"No, but I do," cried Dr. Malone. "He lies down and feigns death if he sees a larger dog coming in the distance, and will murder any unfortunate pup of half his size; some dogs have a sense of chivalry, generosity, gratitude, but he is a brute!"
"Yes," chimed in Mr. Quentin, "if things are not going to his liking, he adjourns to Creery's dressing-room, and devours a couple of pairs of boots; that is to say, tears and gnaws them to pieces, just to mark his sense of injury. If they only disagreed with him!—but they don't, and Creery can't even have the poor satisfaction of licking him; for whenever Nip sees him arming himself with a stick, he at once fastens on his leg, believing the first blow to be half the battle!"
"A portrait from life!" exclaimed Dr. Malone. "I wish I might be allowed a shot at him at 100 yards!"
"I wish you might; and if you do get the chance, I'll wink at it," returned the General; "he is an insufferable nuisance—a savage, mean, mischievous, lazy, cowardly——"
"Now, now, General," cried Nip's mistress, coming across the grass in a swinging walk, her arms dangling loosely at her sides, "what is all this wonderful laughing about? and who are you abusing—man, woman, or child? It's seldom that you say a word against any one! Come, who is it? Shall I guess who is mischievous, lazy, and mean? Now really you might let me into the secret, when it's known to Miss Denis. Can it be any one in Ross? Dear me!"—with sudden animation,—"I have it!—it's——"
Of course she was just about to exclaim "Mr. Lisle," when the General hastily interrupted her, saying, "We were not talking scandal; it was merely a little joke of ours"—looking appealingly at Dr. Malone and Helen, who were choking with suppressed laughter—indeed the very railings behind the former were shaking dangerously,—"it was only a miserable jest, Mrs. Creery," reiterated the General, nervously (seeing that her mind was bent on dragging the secret from his bosom), "that was all, really, you know. And, by-the-way," lowering his voice, and speaking confidentially, "I wanted to consult you about something—about getting up a little dinner for Miss Denis."
To be consulted, and by the General, was much to Mrs. Creery's mind, so she immediately walked aside with him, prepared to give her whole attention to the discussion. It now was nearly eight o'clock, and people were leaving. Helen was escorted to her own door by Dr. Malone and Mr. Quentin, Colonel Denis once more bringing up the rear, but this time he had a companion—Miss Caggett. Mr. Quentin lingered below the steps of the verandah, and squeezed Helen's fingers as he took a very reluctant leave of her. He half hoped that he would have been earnestly requested to honour them with his company at dinner, but this hope was doomed to disappointment, he was dismissed by Colonel Denis with a careless nod! Later on, as Helen sat alone in the verandah, and looked out over the sea, recalling the scenes of this most wonderful, eventful day, and dwelling on all the new faces she had seen and the strange things she had heard, it is an extraordinary, but veracious fact, that—with the perversity common to her sex—she cast more than one thought to a man she had been twice warned against in the same afternoon, in short, Mr. Quentin's pauper-friend, Gilbert Lisle.
Meanwhile Mr. Quentin had been rowed over to Aberdeen, had climbed the hill in capital spirits, and with a healthy appetite; and had found his companion already at home, reposing in an arm-chair in front of the bungalow, smoking. He fully expected to be severely cross-examined about his visit, and on the subject of Miss Denis, and was prepared to enter into the fullest details, and to paint the lady in the richest tints, but, alas! a disappointment awaited him. Lisle never once referred to Ross—much less to the young lady. He had had a big take of fish, and had caught three bottle-nosed sharks off the Red Buoy—bait, hooks, and nets engrossed his mind entirely.