Mr Jabez was got up wonderfully for his visit to Miss Carr. His white waistcoat might have been carved in marble, and his white cravat was the stiffest ever made; but there was a good deal of the natural gentleman in the old man, and he took Miss Carr down to dinner with all the ceremony of the old school.
Everything was expressly arranged to be very simple, and in a very few minutes Mr Jabez was quite at his ease, while after a glass of sherry the old man became pleasantly chatty, and full of anecdote, but always treating his hostess with the most chivalrous respect, making a point of rising to open the door for her when she quitted the room, and we were supposed to be left to our wine.
“Hah, Grace,” he said, coming back to the table, and taking a long pinch of snuff; “now I feel a man again. I’ll just have three more pinches, and then we’ll go upstairs to that angel. Good heavens!”
“What is the matter?” I said, as, instead of sitting down, he began to walk up and down the dining-room, taking pinch after pinch of snuff.
“Good heavens!” he exclaimed again.
“Is anything the matter, Mr Jabez?” I exclaimed.
“Good heavens! I say, Good heavens!” he repeated.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Good heavens! Only to think of it, Grace!”
Another pinch of snuff.