"I know that, but then I have a friend waiting—Czinsky." Scroop looked uneasy.
"Why didn't you bring him here?" said the Earl.
"He wouldn't come; he's waiting a dozen miles from this, and I must soon be off."
"Stay, we can send. Do rest a day or two," said the Earl.
"No use pressing, I can't. I don't mean to be rude, only God knows I can't stop. Ring the bell, Lennox, please; what is that stupid villain Andrew about?"
"Here, Captain, here; het, strang, and sweet, isna that your song? an' how are ye? weel to dae?" said the old servant, bringing in a large bowl of smoking punch.
"Egad, this is the stuff on a snowy night. It's always snowing here it seems. Do you remember the night I hooked it, after nailing Musgrave, poor devil—I hope he was decently interred. By Jove, I was very sorry I hit him where I did; he was a good fellow, and here's to his health, and yours, Scroop; and as you love me don't quarrel."
"If little quarrels make great friends, sharp cuts make blunt ones. Why you drive your rapier through and through a fellow, like a spit through a partridge, and then talk of being good friends again! however, I will drink your health, and the further we fly the tighter we'll tie! I've had enough of close friendship with you."
"Come, I believe you are angry after all. Never mind, chacun à son goût, nothing like being on good terms with the man that eats you. Ha! ha! ha!"
After emptying another bowl with the Marquis and one or two others who remained behind to hear the Captain's adventures, whilst the Earl, who didn't exactly like to ally himself again with such a scapegrace, and the remaining guests joined the ladies, the Captain rose, exclaiming with an oath he must be on his travels. He however went up stairs to see Lady Florence and the Countess; the first received him with sisterly warmth of welcome, whilst the reception he met with from the latter was cold, and politely frigid in the extreme. He asked to see the little girl, and was shown by the Countess and his sister to the next room, where in a handsome cot the infant slept. Lady Wentworth bent over it with a mother's love, whilst the Captain looked gloomily on the little features of her, who at any rate would cut him out of his prospects. To the question if he did not think her a lovely child he answered, "Every baby, he supposed, was thought lovely by its mother; however, she did seem much above the usual run of children." He then came back to the drawing-room, shook hands with those he knew, and departed as mysteriously as he came. Mr. Lennox and the Marquis saw him off, and each returned disgusted by his parting sally. As he shook hands with Lord Arranmore he observed: