A very nice man sat next me to-day; he reminded me of the old generals at Branches. We had quite a war of wits, and it stimulated me.
He told me, among other things, when he discovered who I was, that he had known papa—papa was in the same Guards with him—and that he was the best-looking man of his day. Numbers of women were in love with him, he said, but he was a faithless being, and rode away.
"He probably enjoyed himself—don't you think so?—and he had the good luck to die in his zenith," I said.
"He was once engaged to Lady Merrenden, you know. She was Lady Sophia Vavasour then, and absolutely devoted to him, but Mrs. Carruthers came between them and carried him off—she was years older than he was, too, and as clever as paint."
"Poor papa seems to have been a weak creature, I fear."
"All men are weak," he said.
"And then he married and left Mrs. Carruthers, I suppose?" I asked. I wanted to hear as much as I could.
"Ye-e-s," said my old colonel. "I was best man at the wedding."
"And what was she like, my mamma?"
"She was the loveliest creature I ever saw," he said—"as lovely as you, only you are the image of your father, all but the hair—his was fair."