Here Sir Benjamin shook his head and sighed, Sir Jasper stifled a groan, Mr. Marchdale swore beneath his breath, the Captain uttered a feeble "Haw" and Lord Alvaston whistled dolefully.
"Sir," sighed Sir Benjamin, "you behold in us a band of woeful wooers each alike condemned to sigh, and yet to sigh in unison and in this, the measure of our woe doth find some small abatement. Each hath wooed and each hath proved his wooing vain, his dreams, his visions must remain but—hem!—but dreams and——"
"Hold on, Ben," murmured Alvaston, "burn me but y're gettin' int' th' weeds again! What poor old Ben's strivin' t' say 's simply that——"
"Betty'll ha' none of us," scowled Mr. Marchdale, "though if I'd had more time——"
"None of us!" added the Captain, "er—haw! Not one!" Here Sir Jasper, trying to sip his wine and groan at the same time, choked.
"And yet—and yet," sighed Sir Benjamin, holding his glass between his eye and the light, "seeing that our ahem! our unspeakable grief is common to us, each and all, it shall, methinks, but knit closer the bonds of our fellowship and we should unite to wish her happiness with whatsoever unknown mortal she shall some day make blest. Regarding which I think a toast might be appropriate—pray charge your glasses and I——" Sir Benjamin paused and turned as with a perfunctory knock the Sergeant re-appeared.
"Your honour," said he, "my Lady Belinda Damain with Lady Carlyon to see you."
The Major caught his breath, then sat upright his square chin showing a little grim.
"You will tell their ladyships that I present my humble respects and thanks but regret I am unable to see them."
"Sir?" said the Sergeant, staring.