“Never mind her, Alick. Who ever does mind Anna? But listen to me. I have made an engagement for you this evening.”
Alexander started, with an unpleasant sensation about his heart; but the old gentleman, without noticing him, went on:
“There have been several parties calling here this morning, to invite Anna to go and hear this celebrated Italian Opera Troupe. But I excused her to one and all, telling them she was engaged to go with you, and also giving them to understand that she was also engaged for life to you, so that they might not waste any attentions upon her. And I sent and took a private box for you both, for this evening. Come! no thanks. I don’t desire any. It was perfectly convenient for me to make these arrangements, to save you the trouble.”
Alexander was dumb-foundered; he could not have returned thanks if he had tried. He dropped into the nearest seat, and wiped his face with his handkerchief, while the old gentleman went on to describe the attractions of the Italian Opera, and while Anna silently, with an amused expression of countenance, watched both.
“I—I fear, sir, that I cannot have the honor intended for me. I—”
—“Cannot have the honor intended for you? What the mischief do you mean by that, sir?” demanded the old gentleman, in surprise and displeasure.
“A previous engagement, I regret to say, sir, stands in the way.”
“What sort of an engagement, boy? What sort of an engagement?”
“I had promised to dine with a friend—” began Alexander, speaking truly as to the letter, and falsely as to the spirit. But the old gentleman stopped him.
“Oh, a friend! a gentleman, of course, for it isn’t possible that you should have promised to dine with any lady. Bosh, boy! Send the man an excuse; tell him here is a lady in the case; and take an early dinner with us, and be ready to attend Anna.”