"This very day, without losing a minute!" was the answer. "Let me have to congratulate her, when I call to drive her out at half-past five."
The General looked at the clock, smoothing his hat more vigorously than ever. "It's nearly four now," said he, in a faltering voice. "Mrs. Lushington, I am really most grateful. It's too kind of you to take such an interest in my affairs. Would you mind telling me? Women understand these things much better than men. If you were in my place, do you think I ought? I mean what is the best plan? In short, would you advise me to call, and ask her point-blank, or to—write a line, you know—very explicit and respectful, of course, and tell the servant to wait for an answer?"
She was very near laughing in his face, but mastered her gravity, after a moment's reflection, and observed sententiously—
"Perhaps in your case a few lines would be best. You can write them here if you like, or at your club. The shorter the better. And," she added, shaking hands with him very kindly, while he rose to take leave, "whichever way it goes, you will let me know the result."
As the street-door closed, she opened her blotting-book, and scribbled off the following dispatch—
"Dearest Blanche,
"Alarms! A skirmish! I write to put you on your guard. The General, your General, has been here for an hour. He seems to have made up his mind, so prepare yourself for it at any moment. I think you ought to accept him. He would relapse into a quiet, kind, and respectable husband. Your own position, too, would be improved and what I call established. Don't be obstinate, there's a dear. In haste. Ever your own loving
"Clara L——.
"You mustn't forget you dine here. Nobody but ourselves, Uncle John, the two Gordon girls (Bessie has grown so pretty), and Daisy Walters, who starts for Ireland to-morrow. As soon after eight as you can."