Woodland sprites of ferns and trees,
Ariels of the wandering breeze,
Kelpies from the hidden caves
Coral-bordered 'neath the waves,
Sylphs, that in the rose's heart,
Laugh when leaves are blown apart,—
All the Faun and Dryad crew
From their mystic forests flew
To the wooing of Maryllia!
"Very fanciful!" said John, with a forced smile—"I suppose you can go on like that interminably?"
"I can, and I will,"—said Julian—"So long as the fit possesses me. But not now. You are in a hurry, and you wish to say good-bye. You imply the P.P.C. in your aspect. So be it! I shall see you on Sunday in the pulpit as usual?"
"Yes."
"Badsworth Hall will probably attend your ministrations, so I am told,"—continued Julian—"Lord Roxmouth wants to hear you preach,— and Sir Morton himself proposes to 'sit under' you."
"Sorry for it!" said Walden abruptly—"He should attend his own 'cure'—Mr. Leveson."
They laughed.
"Of course you don't credit that story about Miss Vancourt's marriage with Lord Roxmouth?" queried Adderley, suddenly.
"I am slow to believe anything I hear,"—replied John—"But—is it quite without foundation?"
Adderley looked him straight in the eyes.