“He'll do,” said Coleman, as we separated to prepare for dinner.
It was easy to see by Sir John's beaming face, and the hearty squeeze he gave my hand when I entered the drawing-room, that Harry would not have to fear much opposition to his wishes on the part of his father. The dinner passed off pleasantly enough, though even when the meal was concluded, and the servants had left the room, no allusion was made (out of delicacy to Lawless) to the subject which engrossed the thoughts of many of the party. As soon, however, as the wine had gone the round of the table, Lawless exclaimed: “Gentlemen! are you all charged?” and receiving affirmatory looks from the company in general, he continued, “Then I beg to propose a toast, which you must drink as such a toast ought to be drunk, con amore. Gentlemen, I rise to propose the health of the happy couple that is to be.”
“Umph! eh I what?—what are you talking about, sir?—what are you talking about?” inquired Mr. Frampton, hastily setting down his wine untasted, and speaking quickly, and with much excitement.
“Do you see that?” whispered Lawless, nudging me, “he's off on a false scent; he never could bear the idea of my marrying Fanny, he as good as told me so one day; now be quiet, and I'll get a rise out of him.” He then continued, addressing Mr. Frampton: “You're getting a little hard of hearing, I'm afraid, sir; I was proposing the health of a certain happy couple, or rather of two people, who will, I hope, become so, in the common acceptation of the term, before very long”.
“Umph! I heard what you said, sir, plain enough (wish I hadn't), and I suppose I can guess what you mean. I'm a plain-spoken man, sir, and I tell you honestly I don't like the thing, and I don't approve of the thing—I never have, and so once for all—I—umph! I won't drink your toast, sir, that's flat. Umph! umph!”
“Well,” said Lawless, making a sign to Harry not to speak, “you are a privileged person, you know; and if Sir John and my friend Harry here don't object to your refusing the toast, it's not for me to take any notice of it; but I must say, considering the lady is the sister of your especial favourite Frank Fairlegh, and the gentleman one whom you have known from boyhood, I take it as particularly unkind of you, Mr. Frampton, not even to wish them well.”
“Eh! umph! it isn't that, boy—it isn't that,” returned Mr. Frampton, evidently taken aback by this appeal to his kindly feeling. “But, you see,” he added, turning to Sir John, “the thing is foolish altogether, they are not at all suited to each other; and instead of being happy, as they fancy, they'll make each other miserable: the boy's a very good boy in his way, kind-hearted and all that, but truth is truth, and he's no more fit to marry Fanny Fairlegh than I am.”
“Sorry I can't agree with you, Mr. Frampton,” replied Sir John Oaklands, drawing himself up stiffly; “I thank Mr. Lawless most heartily for his toast, and drink it without a moment's hesitation. Here's to the health of the young couple!”
“Well, I see you are all against me,” exclaimed Mr. Frampton, “and I don't like to seem unkind. They say marriages are made in heaven, so I suppose it must be all right. Here's the health of the happy couple, Mr. Lawless and Miss Fairlegh!”
It was now Lawless's turn to look out of countenance, and for a moment he did appear thoroughly disconcerted, more especially as it was next to impossible to repress a smile, and Freddy Coleman grinned outright; quickly recovering himself, however, he resumed, “Laugh away, Freddy, laugh away, it only serves me right for playing such a trick. I've been deceiving you, Mr. Frampton; Miss Fairlegh is indeed going to be married, but she has had the good taste to choose a fitter bridegroom than she would have found in such a harum-scarum fellow as I am. So here's a long life, and a merry one, to Fanny Fairlegh and Harry Oaklands; you won't refuse that toast, I dare say?”