"The vile dog hath bewitched her somehow!" explained the Viscount suddenly at last, "I've heard tell o' such cases ere now, sir."
"Heaven send he bewitch none other sweet soul!" said the Major fervently.
"He sha'n't—if I may stop him!" said the Viscount scowling.
"I don't think—no, I don't think he ever will, Tom!"
"Gad love us!" exclaimed the Viscount suddenly in altered tone. "Nunky—sir—look yonder! 'Tis Betty herself and she's seen us! O Lard, sir—she's coming!"
Glancing swiftly round, the Major sat with breath in check watching where my lady was descending the steps into the rose-garden, as fresh, as fair and sweet as the morning itself. With one accord they rose and, side by side, went to meet her.
"Heavens!" she cried as they came up. "How glum you look—and the sun so bright too! Ha' you no greeting for me?"
"Madam," said the Viscount with a prodigious bow, "I was but now relating how, last night, I saw you in a lane, seated upon a wall."
"Was I, Pan?"
"Indeed, my lady!" he answered, taking out his snuff-box.