“Write Merl,—Mr. Herman Merl,” said he, dropping his own voice to the same tone.
“Merl!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, whose quick hearing detected the words. “Why, where on earth could you have made acquaintance with a man called Merl?”
“I have told you already where and how we met; and if it be any satisfaction to you to know that I am under considerable obligations—heavy obligations—to this same gentleman, perhaps it might incline you to show him some mark of attention.”
“You could have him to dinner at your Club,—you might even bring him here, when we're alone, Harry; but really, to receive him at one of our Evenings! You know how curious people are, what questions they will ask:—'Who is that queer-looking man?'—I 'm certain he is so.—'Is he English?'—'Who does he belong to?'—'Does he know any one?'”
“Let them ask me, then,” said Martin, “and I may, perhaps, be able to satisfy them.” At the same moment he took up from the table the card which Kate had just written, giving her a look of grateful recognition as he did so.
“You 've done this at your own peril, Miss Henderson,” said Lady Dorothea, half upbraidingly.
“At mine, be it rather,” said the Captain, sternly.
“I accept my share of it willingly,” said Kate, with a glance which brought a deep flush over the hussar's cheek, and sent through him a strange thrill of pleasure.
“Then I am to suppose we shall be honored with your own presence on this occasion,—rare favor that it is,” said her Ladyship.
“Yes, I 'll look in. I promised Merl to present him.”