“I am obliged to you for the trouble you have already taken, sir,” answered Mr. Vernor coldly, “but will not add to it. Miss Saville will be able to proceed with the assistance of my arm in a few minutes.”
After a short pause the young lady again announced her readiness to depart; and, having shaken hands with Mrs. Coleman and Lucy Markham, turned to leave the room, leaning on Mr. Vernor's arm. As I was standing near the door I stepped forward to hold it open for them, Mr. Vernor acknowledging my civility by the slightest imaginable motion of the head. Miss Saville, as she approached me, paused for a moment, as if about to speak, but, apparently relinquishing her intention, merely bowed, and passed on.
“Well, if it's in that sort of way fashionable individuals demonstrate their gratitude for having their lives saved, I must say I don't admire it,” exclaimed Coleman, who had witnessed the cool behaviour of Mr. Vernor and his ward; “it may be very genteel, but, were I in your place, I should consider it unsatisfactory in the extreme, and allow the next inflammable young lady who might happen to attract a spark in my presence to consume as she pleased, without interfering; and peace be to her ashes!”
“It was most fortunate that I happened to have that thick shawl in my hand,” said I; “in another minute her whole dress would have been in a blaze, and it would have been next to impossible to save her. What courage and self-command she showed! she never attempted to move after I threw the shawl around her, till I told her all danger was over.”
“Very grand, all that sort of thing,” returned Freddy; “but for my own part I should like to see a little more feeling. I've no taste for your 'marble maidens'; they always put me in mind of Lot's wife.”
“Eh! Mrs. Lot?” interrupted Lawless, coming up to us: “why was she like me? do you give it up? Because she got into a pretty pickle—there's a riddle for you. I say, I made a nice mess of it just now, didn't I? that's what comes of going to these confounded balls. The fact was,” he continued, sinking his voice, “the filly bolted with me; she took uncommon kindly to the champagne at supper; in consequence, she was so fresh when we started that I couldn't hold her; she kept pushing on faster and faster, till at last she was fairly off with me; we did very well as long as we stuck to the open country, but at last we contrived to get among some very awkward fences; the first stiff bit of timber we came to she made a rush at, and down we came, gate—I mean table, candlestick, and all, a regular smash; and to make matters worse, one of the candles set the other young woman's petticoat alight.”
“In fact, after a very severe run, you were nearly being in at the death,” suggested Coleman.
"By Jove, it was nothing to laugh at, though!” remarked Lawless; “she'd have been regularly cooked, if Prank Fairlegh hadn't put her out when he did, and I should have been tried for 'Unjustifiable Girl-icide,' or 'Maliciously setting fire to a marriageable female,' or some such thing; and I daresay the young woman wasn't insured anywhere: I should have got into a pretty mess; it would have been a worse job than breaking Shrimp.”
“Frederick, look here!” cried Lucy Markham, who was passing the place where we stood; “see how Mr. Fairlegh's sleeve is scorched; surely,” she continued, turning to me, “your arm must be injured.”
“It begins to feel rather painful,” replied I; “but I daresay it's nothing to signify.”