CHAPTER IX. MR. M’KINLAY’S TRIALS
Mr. M’Kinlay was awakened from a pleasant nap oyer the “Man of Feeling,” which he had persuaded himself he was reading with all the enjoyment it had once afforded him, by the French clock oyer the mantelpiece performing a lively waltz, and then striking five!
He started, rubbed his eyes, and looked about him, not very certain for some minutes where he was. The hum of the bees, the oppressive perfume of the sweetbriar and the jessamine, and the gentle drip-drip of a little trickling rivulet over some rock-work, seemed still to steep his senses in a pleasant dreamy languor, and a sort of terror seized him that the ladies might possibly have come in, and found him there asleep. He rang the bell and summoned Rickards at once.
“Where are the ladies?” asked he, eagerly.
“Not come back yet, Sir. It’s very seldom they stay out so long. I can make nothing of it.”
“You told her Ladyship I was here, didn’t you?”
“I told Miss Georgina, Sir, and of course she told my Lady.”
“What’s your dinner-hour?”
“Always early, Sir, when Sir Gervais is from home. My Lady likes four, or half-past.”
“And it’s five now!”