"Lavinia!" he murmured.
At the same moment a diminutive footman gave a rousing stroke with the knocker, and delivered into the hands of the old woman, who opened the door, a glass dish of delicacies such as are affected by sick persons.
With this came a message from the lady in the carriage, to the effect, that her respects were presented to Mr. Roundjacket, whose sickness she had heard of. Would he like the jelly?—she was passing—would be every day. Please to send word if he was better.
While this message was being delivered, Roundjacket resembled an individual caught in the act of felonious appropriation of his neighbors' ewes. He did not look at Verty, but, with; a bad assumption of nonchalance, bade the boy thank his mistress, and say that Mr. Roundjacket would present his respects, in person, at Apple Orchard, on the morrow. Would she excuse his not coming out?
This message was carried to the chariot, which soon afterwards drove away.
Verty gazed after it.
"I say, Mr. Roundjacket," he observed, at length, "how funny it is for
Miss Lavinia to come to see you!"
"Hum!—hum!—we are—hum—ah—! The fact is, my dear Verty!" cried Mr. Roundjacket, rising, and limping through a pas seul, in spite of his rheumatism—"the fact is, I have been acting the most miserable and deceptive way to you for the last hour. Yes, my dear boy! I am ashamed of myself! Carried away by the pride of opinion, and that fondness which bachelor's have for boasting, I have been deceiving you! But it never shall be said that Robert Roundjacket refused the amplest reparation. My reparation, my good Verty, is taking you into my confidence. The fact is—yes, the fact really is—as aforesaid, or rather as not aforesaid, myself and the pleasing Miss Lavinia are to be married before very long! Don't reply, sir! I know my guilt—but you might have known I was jesting. You must have suspected, from my frequent visits to Apple Orchard—hum—hum—well, well, sir; it's out now, and I've made a clean breast of it, and you're not to speak of it! I am tired of bachelordom, sir, and am going to change!"
With these words, Mr. Roundjacket executed a pirouette upon his rheumatic leg, which caused him to fall back in his chair, making the most extraordinary faces, which we can compare to nothing but the contortions of a child who bites a crab-apple by mistake.
The twinge soon spent its force, however; and then Mr. Roundjacket and Verty resumed their colloquy—after which, Verty rose and took his leave, smiling and laughing to himself, at times.