“The colloquy, as you call it, took place some four hours ago; and the subject thereof was the young woman’s conduct towards your precious self. Now, don’t go and fly into a passion,” continued Frere, as Lewis coloured and seemed about to make some hasty rejoinder; “remember, life ought to be taken easily and quietly by a sensible man, and of course you consider yourself one: however, I took the liberty to tell Miss General Grant a few home truths that she will be none the worse for hearing.”
He then proceeded, after his own fashion, to give an account of his conversation with Annie, and his subsequent interview with Laura, concluding his recital thus—
“So the upshot of the whole affair, and a very unsatisfactory one I’m afraid you’ll think it, is this. When you had left Broadhurst, Ma’amselle Annie found herself in a bit of a fix, and not being a man or Rose Arundel, she, after the fashion of her silly sex, did a weak and injudicious thing; but as I said to the other young woman, who, by the way, seems to have the best sense of the two, that’s very different from doing a deliberately wicked one, and therefore, perhaps, Lewis may be induced to look over it.”
“For Heaven’s sake, my dear fellow, don’t tell me any more about it, you will drive me frantic with your detestable common-sense platitudes,” exclaimed Lewis, springing from his chair impatiently; “at least you would have done so,” he continued more quietly, “if I had not happened to have seen Miss Grant myself since your well-meant but somewhat unnecessary interview with her, and learned from her own sweet lips that she forgives me for having so hastily and ungenerously misjudged her.”
“Eh! what! has the young woman been here in my absence?” returned Frere, greatly scandalised. “Oh! this will never do! I don’t allow such liberties to be taken with my patient; besides, I don’t consider the proceeding by any means a correct one; she might have found you in bed, with your nightcap on, for aught she could tell to the contrary.”
“Do you know what is reported to have occurred when a mountain objected to come at Mahomet’s bidding?” asked Lewis quietly.
“Why, Mahomet went to the mountain, to be sure, like an arrant humbug as he was; but what has that got to do with the case in question? Why, you don’t mean to say,” continued Frere, as a sudden light broke in upon him—“you don’t mean to say that you’ve been to call upon her?”
“I am afraid I must confess that such is the alarming fact,” was the cool reply.
“Well! I have known many insane actions in my life, certainly,” growled Frere, making fruitless attempts to re-unbutton his already enfranchised garments, “but this”—here he nearly tore a wristband off his shirt in his pursuit of coolness under difficulties—“is the very maddest thing I ever did hear of—a man that was on the point of death here not ten days ago to rush out of bed the moment one’s back is turned for the sake of seeing——”
“She is looking so sweetly pretty, Frere,” interrupted Lewis; “and those eyes—there never were such eyes seen in the world before.”