“My name is Norval—I mean Coleman; my father divides his time between feeding his flocks on the Grampian Hills, and fleecing his clients in Lincoln's Inn; though I must confess that ever since I can remember, he has dropped the shepherd, and stuck to the solicitor, finding it pays best, I suppose. Regarding the sofa, we have not one at present, but Dr. Mildman went to town this morning; I did not till this moment know why. But now I see it all—he was doubtless aware you would arrive to-day, and, finding he could not get a sufficiently comfortable sofa for you in Helmstone, he is gone to London on purpose to procure one. There is still time to write by the post, if there is any particular way in which you would like to have the stuffing arranged.”
This speech made Oaklands raise his head, and look Coleman so fixedly in the face, with such a clear, earnest, penetrating gaze, that it appeared as if he would read his very soul. Having apparently satisfied himself, he smiled slightly, resumed his former attitude, and observed in the same half-sleepy tone:—
“No, I'll leave all that to him; I am not particular. What time do you dine here?”
I replied (for the look I have described seemed to have had the wonderful effect of silencing Coleman), “At five o'clock”.
“Very good; and I believe there's a Mrs. Mildman, or some such person, is there not? I suppose one must dress. Will you be so kind as to tell the servant to bring some hot water, and to look out my things for me at a quarter before five? I hate to be obliged to hurry, it tires one so.”
Having said this, he took up a book which was lying by his side, and, murmuring something about “talking being so fatiguing,” soon became buried in its contents.
Whilst I was dressing for dinner Lawless came into my room, and told me that he had been speaking to Cumberland with regard to the way in which he had behaved to me about the mare, and that Cumberland professed himself exceedingly sorry that the affair had so nearly turned out a serious one, declaring he meant it quite as a joke, never expecting that when I saw the mare I should venture to mount her.
“So you see,” continued Lawless, “he merely wanted to have a good laugh at you—nothing more. It was a thoughtless thing to do, but not so bad as you had fancied it, by any means.”
“Well,” replied I, “as he says so, I am bound to believe him; but his manner certainly gave me the impression that he intended me to ride her. He went the right way to make me do so, at all events, by hinting that I was afraid.”
“Ah! he could not know that by intuition, you see,” said Lawless; “he thought, I daresay, as I did, that you were a mere molly-coddle, brought up at your mother's apron-string, and had not pluck enough in you to do anything sporting.”