"Ha, ha, ha—he, he, he! a Papist beggar," exclaimed his lordship, with an hysterical giggle, which was intended for a careless laugh. "Has he any conversation—any manner—any attraction of that kind?"
"Oh! none in the world!—both ignorant, and I think, vulgar," replied Emily. "In short, he is very nearly a stupid boor!"
"Excellent! Ha, ha—he, he, he!—ugh! ugh!—very capital—excellent! excellent!" exclaimed his lordship, although he might have found some difficulty in explaining in what, precisely the peculiar excellence of the announcement consisted. "Is he—is he—a—a—handsome?"
"Decidedly not what I consider handsome!" replied she; "he is a large, coarse-looking fellow, with very broad shoulders—very large—and as they say of oxen, in very great condition—a sort of a prize man!"
"Ha, ha!—ugh! ugh!—he, he, he, he, he!—ugh, ugh, ugh!—de—lightful—quite delightful!" exclaimed the earl, in a tone of intense chagrin, for he was conscious that his own figure was perhaps a little too scraggy, and his legs a leetle too nearly approaching the genus spindle, and being so, there was no trait in the female character which he so inveterately abhorred and despised as their tendency to prefer those figures which exhibited a due proportion of thew and muscle. Under a cloud of rappee, his lordship made a desperate attempt to look perfectly delighted and amused, and effected a retreat to the window, where he again indulged in a titter of unutterable spite and vexation.
"And what says Sir Richard to the advances of this very desirable gentleman?" inquired he, after a little time.
"Sir Richard is, of course, violently against it," replied Emily Copland.
"So I should have supposed," returned the little nobleman, briskly. And turning again to the window, he relapsed into silence, looked out intently for some minutes, took more snuff, and finally, consulting his watch, with a few words of apology, and a gracious smile and a bow, quitted the room.
CHAPTER XXIII.