'I hope not,' said Evan.
'You do hope that you will not officiate? Oh, Evan the eternal contemplation of gentlemen's legs! think of that! Think of yourself sculptured in that attitude!' Innumerable little prickles and stings shot over Evan's skin.
'There—there, Louisa!' he said, impatiently; 'spare your ridicule. We go to London to-morrow, and when there I expect to hear that I have an appointment, and that this engagement is over.' He rose and walked up and down the room.
'I shall not be prepared to go to-morrow,' remarked the Countess, drawing her figure up stiffly.
'Oh! well, if you can stay, Andrew will take charge of you, I dare say.'
'No, my dear, Andrew will not—a nonentity cannot—you must.'
'Impossible, Louisa,' said Evan, as one who imagines he is uttering a thing of little consequence. 'I promised Rose.'
'You promised Rose that you would abdicate and retire? Sweet, loving girl!'
Evan made no answer.
'You will stay with me, Evan.'