"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Molineux and St. Clair in concert.
"Nay, nay," interposed Julia D'Egville, who had listened impatiently to the comments passed upon the unfortunate and unconscious officer, "this keen exercise of your powers on poor Mr. Raymond is hardly fair. Recollect (turning to Middlemore,) it is not given to all to possess the refinement of wit, nor, (addressing St. Clair) the advantages of personal attraction, therefore is it more incumbent on those, to whom such gifts are given, to be merciful unto the wanting in both." This was uttered with marked expression.
"Brava, my most excellent and spirited partner," whispered Molineux, secretly delighted that the lash of the reprover had not immediately embraced him in its circuit.
"Thank you, my good, kind hearted, considerate cousin," looked Henry Grantham.
"Oh, the devil," muttered Middlemore to St. Clair, "we shall have her next exclaiming, in the words of Monk Lewis' Bleeding Nun,
'Raymond, Raymond, I am thine
'Raymond, Raymond, them art mine.'"
St. Clair shrugged his shoulders, bit his lip, threw up his large blue eyes, shewed his white teeth, slightly reddened, and looked altogether exceedingly at a loss whether to feel complimented or reproved.
"But here comes Mr. Raymond, to fight his own battles," continued Miss D'Egville with vivacity.
"Hush," whispered Molineux.
"Honor among thieves," added Middlemore, in the same low tone.