“We did!” quoth Lady Belinda, tossing her head.
“We do, madam!” answered Captain Armitage gravely.
“And most of you are, I think, acquainted with that impetuous boy, Viscount Templemore, who, inspired by some rash word of mine concerning Sir John Dering, started for Paris with some wild notion of becoming my champion and forcing Sir John to fight him. Hearing of this madness, I set off in immediate pursuit, but my coach broke down and, thus delayed, and to while away a dreary hour, I wrapped myself in my maid’s cloak and walked out to watch the moon rise, and thus, by the merest chance, met Sir John himself, who, it seemed, had left Paris ere the duel could take place. All of you, I think, are aware of Sir John’s overweening pride and arrogance, and I determined to make this fortuitous meeting a means of humbling his pride and trampling his lofty self-esteem in the dust. Judge now if I have succeeded or no! Sir John mistook me for a serving-maid, whereupon I acted the part of shy, country simpleton to such perfection—Mr. Scarsdale saw me in the part, you’ll remember, and was equally deceived—were you not, Mr. Scarsdale?”
But that gentleman had softly and discreetly taken his departure.
“Well, dear my friends, the end of it was, I very soon had Sir John sighing and languishing to such degree that I ran away with him——”
“Madam!” exclaimed Lady Belinda.
“O heavens!” gasped Lady Prudence.
“Until he thought me safe, and then—I ran away from him—left him, with a flea in his ear, disconsolate—to mourn and seek his shy, humble, rustical wench as he is doubtless doing at this very moment——”
“Tee-hee!” laughed ancient Lord Aldbourne, slapping feeble knee with veinous hand. “Dering—that terror o’ husbands! Hee-he! Oh, sink me! Jilted, bilked and made a dem’d, everlasting fool of by a serving-wench! Oh, split me!” And my lord laughed until he choked, and would have rolled to the floor but for the Captain’s ready arm.
And now, as she turned, my lady found my Lord Sayle beside her.