“Fiend,—not woman!” was his muttered expression as he turned away.
“And a pleasant journey,” said she, as if finishing a speech; while turning, she gave her hand to Agincourt: “Yes, to be sure, you may take a boy's privilege, and give me a kiss at parting,” said she; while the youth, blushing a deep crimson, availed himself of the permission.
“There they go,” said Sir William, as the horses rattled down the avenue; “and a finer boy and a grumpier companion it has rarely been my lot to meet with. A thousand pardons, my dear Mrs. Morris, if he is a friend of yours.”
“I knew him formerly,” said she, coldly. “I can't say I ever liked him.”
“I remember his name,” said Sir William, in a sort of hesitating way; “there was some story or other about him,—either his wife ran away, or he eloped with somebody's wife.”
“I 'm sure it must have been the former,” said Mrs. Morris, laughing. “Poor gentleman, he does not give one the impression of a Lothario. But whom have we here? The O'Shea, I declare! Look to your heart, May dearest; take my word for it, he never turned out so smartly without dreams of conquest.” Mr. O'Shea cantered up at the same moment, followed by Joe in a most accurate “get up” as groom, and, dismounting, advanced, hat in hand, to salute the party.
There are blank days in this life of ours in which even a pleasant visitor is a bore,—times in which dulness and seclusion are the best company, and it is anything but a boon to be broken in upon. It was the O'Shea's evil fortune to have fallen on one of these. It was in vain he recounted his club gossip about politics and party to Sir William; in vain he told Mrs. Morris the last touching episode of town scandal; in vain, even, did he present a fresh bouquet of lily-of-the-valley to May: each in turn passed him on to the other, till he found himself alone with Clara, who sat sorrowfully over the German lesson Layton was wont to help her with.
“What's the matter with you all?” cried he, half angrily, as he walked the room from end to end. “Has there any misfortune happened?”
“Charley has left us, Agincourt is just gone, the pleasant house is broken up; is not that enough to make us sad?” said she, sorrowfully.
“If you ever read Tommy Moore, you 'd know it was only another reason to make the most of the friends that were left behind,” said he, adjusting his cravat at the glass, and giving himself a leer of knowing recognition. “That's the time of day, Clara!”