And so she would listen to me, and hear me, and then slip away to keep a tryst with my rival.
Once or twice Bessie became angry with me, and ventured to defend the squire, laying the blame of all his evil actions on his friend, or Mentor—the dark Mephistopheles, who was always by his side. Her defence of him maddened me. From tears she took to taunts, and I replied by scorn.
We separated in hot anger, and with my mind a perfect chaos—a whirl—and already repenting my violence, or precipitation, I strode moodily through the holly lanes, till a sudden turn brought me face to face with Captain Raikes and his dark friend, in close and earnest conversation.
The idea of honest and manly remonstrance seized me; and touching my cap respectfully, as became me to an officer, I said—
"Captain Raikes, may I crave a word with you?"
"Certainly—haw!" he drawled, while his friend drew back, surveying me with his strange, malevolent, but terrible smile. "In what can I—haw—serve you?"
"In a matter, sir, that lies very near my heart."
He surveyed me with a quiet but puzzled air, through his glass, and replied—
"Haw—have seen you before. How is your pretty cousin, Bessie Leybourne, this morning—well, I hope?"
"It is about Bessie I wish to speak, sir," said I, with a gravity that made him start and colour a little—but only a little, as he was one of those solemn, self-conceited, unimpressionable "snobs," who disdain to exhibit the slightest emotion. He did, however, become uneasy ultimately, and pulled his long whiskers when I said—