The first to enter was Aleck, who, following his custom, sprang upon Angela and licked her hand, and behind Aleck, looking somewhat confused, but handsome and happy—for his was one of those faces that become handsome when their owners are happy—came Aleck’s master. And then there ensued an infinitesimal but most awkward pause.
On such occasions as the present, namely, the first meeting after an engagement, there is always—especially when it occurs in the presence of a third person—a very considerable difficulty in the minds of the parties to know what demeanour they are to adopt towards one another. Are they to treat the little affair of the previous evening as a kind of confidential communication, not to be alluded to except in private conversation, and to drop into the Mr. and Miss of yesterday? That would certainly be the easiest, but then it would also be a decided act of mutual retreat. Or are they to rush into each other’s arms as becomes betrothed lovers? This process is so new that they feel that it still requires private rehearsal. And, meanwhile, time presses, and everybody is beginning to stare, and something must be done.
These were very much the feelings of Arthur and Angela. He hesitated before her, confused, and she kept her head down over the dog. But presently Aleck, getting bored, moved on, and, as it would have been inane to continue to stare at the floor, she had to raise herself as slowly as she might. Soon their eyes arrived in the same plane, and whether a mutual glance of intelligence was exchanged, or whether their power of attraction overcame his power of resistance, it is not easy to determine, but certain it is that, following a primary natural law, Arthur gravitated towards her, and kissed her on the face.
“My!” exclaimed Pigott, and the milk-jug rolled unheeded on the floor.
“Hum! I suppose I had better explain,” began he.
“I think you have spilt the milk,” added she.
“That we have become engaged and are——”
“All to pieces, I declare,” broke in Angela, with her head somewhere near the carpet.
And then they both laughed.
“Well, I never, no, not in all my born days! Sir and Miss Angela, all I have got to say about this extraordinary proceeding”—they glanced at each other in alarm—“is that I am very glad to hear on it, and I hope and pray how as you may be happy, and, if you treat my Angela right, you’ll be just the happiest and luckiest man in the three kingdoms, including Ireland the Royal Family, and, if you treat her wrong, worse will come to you; and her poor mother’s last words, as I heard with my own ears, will come true to you, and serve you right— and there’s all the milk upon the floor. And God bless you both, my dears, is the prayer of an old woman.”