She tried to spring away, but he snatched her hand and detained her, while he stood hesitatingly at her side, looking at her lips as if they were the gates of Paradise.
"Well," said she, laughing and blushing, "I have nothing to do in the matter."
"But I dare not take it unless you give it."
"And I dare not give it unless you take it."
If Hemstead did not emulate Mr. Dimmerly's "explosion," the ancient rite was nevertheless honored in a way that Lottie would not soon forget. Never did a kiss mean more, express more, or impart more, upon any occasion of the observance of the ceremony by her ancestors, back to the times of the Druids.
But this moment of bliss was of short duration, for Mrs. Marchmont unexpectedly entered the hall, and threw them both into disastrous confusion by exclaiming, in unfeigned astonishment, "Well, well! what does this mean?"
Of course Lottie was the first to recover herself, and managed to falter: "You see, auntie, by some accident—I assure you it was an accident; I didn't mean to do it at all—I got under that pesky mistletoe of uncle's, and Mr. Hemstead, it would seem, had taken to heart uncle's homily on the duty of keeping up old customs. Mr. Hemstead, you know, is so conscientious, and I suppose he felt that he must, poor man; and so—and thus"—
At this moment Harcourt's expedients of delay failed, and they were loudly summoned back to the dining-room.
"I hope there will be no more such nonsense," said Mrs. Marchmont, severely.
"O, no, indeed, auntie; it will never happen again. Only the strongest sense of duty could have impelled Mr. Hemstead to do such a thing"; and they escaped to the dining-room only to be subjected to a fire from another quarter. Their color was so high, and they had such an air of general confusion, that Harcourt cried, laughingly, "I more than half believe that you have been under the mistletoe."