‘Werry well, sir,’ replied the boy, with a grin at his companion, as if he understood Mr. Cymon to mean that the cruelty applied less to the animals than to their riders.
‘What a lovely day, dear!’ said Charlotta.
‘Charming; enchanting, dear!’ responded Mrs. Captain Waters.
‘What a beautiful prospect, Mr. Tuggs!’
Cymon looked full in Belinda’s face, as he responded—‘Beautiful, indeed!’ The lady cast down her eyes, and suffered the animal she was riding to fall a little back. Cymon Tuggs instinctively did the same.
There was a brief silence, broken only by a sigh from Mr. Cymon Tuggs.
‘Mr. Cymon,’ said the lady suddenly, in a low tone, ‘Mr. Cymon—I am another’s.’
Mr. Cymon expressed his perfect concurrence in a statement which it was impossible to controvert.
‘If I had not been—’ resumed Belinda; and there she stopped.
‘What—what?’ said Mr. Cymon earnestly. ‘Do not torture me. What would you say?’