To return our engagement ring was the chief object that agitated me during dinner; and, on perceiving that Louisa had drawn the glove off her lovely left hand, I almost thought the return was thereby invited; and as we dawdled over the dessert, which was served up on the earl's favourite Rose du Barri service of Sèvres china, and while Slubber waxed eloquent on his friend Lord Aberdeen's doubtful policy, which my uncle tore all to fritters, I contrived, unseen, to place my Rangoon diamond in her hand, which closed upon it and mine, with a rapid, but nervous pressure, which sent a thrill to my heart, and a flush to my cheek.
It was done!
Recovering—if, indeed, she ever lost it—her complete composure, she asked me, with a smile, as if casually, how I liked the family motto, which was graven round the champagne goblets.
"Prends moi tel que je suis," she added, reading it.
"I understand it with delight," said I.
"Take me such as I am," she translated, with a glance which filled me with joy.
Poor old Slubber knew nothing of the little enigma that was being acted almost under his aristocratic nose, and amid such trivial remarks as these—
"What bin is this port from, Mr. ——?" naming the butler.
"Good, remarkable port, my Lord—bin ten—vintage, 1820; it is the finest old wine in the county of Kent."
"Don't taste so," said Lord Chillingham; in fact, it had been voted out of the servants' hall as intolerable. "And the sherry—eh?"