Peggy's eyes were turned upon the ground with a demureness that represented the finest art of the coquette.
“You—you envied her?” cried the officer. “How humble must be your aspirations, sweet creature! If I should not be thought to be over-bold I would offer—ah! I fear that so brief an acquaintanceship as ours does not warrant my presumption—”
“And yet you do not look like one who would be likely to give offense by overpresumption, sir.”
“I should be sorry to do so, madam. Well, if you promise not to flout me, I will say that if you will accept my escort any night to the Gardens, you will do me a great honour.”
“Oh, sir, your graceful offer overwhelms me. But, alas! all my evenings are not my own. I am free but this evening and to-morrow evening.”
“Then why not come this evening, madam?”
“Why not, indeed? only—is 't not too sudden, Captain? Ah, the dash of Royal Scots cannot be resisted!”
At this moment Miss Hoppner returned, and Peggy cried to her, “My dear child, your friend is Mercury—the messenger of the Elysian Fields—he has invited us to accompany him to Ranelagh to-night.”
“Indeed! That is kind of him,” said Miss Hoppner, without any great show of enthusiasm. “And you have accepted his invitation?”
“Ah! who could refuse?” cried Peggy. She had not failed to notice Captain Joycelyn's little start at her assumption that Miss Hoppner was also to be of the party. “You will not mar our enjoyment by refusing to come, my dear?” she added.