"To be sure," replied Lord Boileau, "I wonder how people can make this sort of fuss and étalage; it is assuming that one is interested for them—nobody cares whether any body is happy or miserable, and it is a bad taste to affiché their private feelings in this public manner."
At this moment a general movement in one of the apartments attracted every body's attention.—"Lord Melcomb is dead!" "Lord Melcomb is dying!" resounded in audible whispers.
"Call my carriage."—"How shocking."—"I would not be in the room with a corpse for the world."—"Do let us get away."
"Who knows but it may be catching—how fortunate for Glenmore," said Lord Boileau, looking over the people's heads, as he beheld Lord Melcomb apparently lifeless. "He will have the pretty heiress and her fortune at the same moment."
"What do you mean?" asked some one who stood near.
"Why, only if the old Lord dies, that Miss Melcomb becomes immediate mistress of Melcomb Park, and an estate of ten thousand a year."
"Does she! you do not mean so; had I known that, I would have proposed to the girl myself," said Lord Tonnerre.
"But is he really in an apoplectic fit?" said another.
"Perhaps, but sometimes people do outlive these sort of things, and walk about quite gaily many years."