"I anticipate great pleasure in making the acquaintance of Miss Erliston," said Oranmore, carelessly; "her beauty and accomplishments have made her name familiar to me long ago."
"Yes, yes, Liz is good-looking—deucedly good-looking; very like what I was at her age. Ah, you're laughing, you rascal! Well, I dare say I'm no beauty now; but never mind that at present. 'Handsome is as handsome does,' as Solomon says. Come, get your traps and come along. Giles, fly round—we're in a hurry."
Thus adjured, Giles kindly consented to "fly round." All was soon ready; and, after giving orders to have his portmanteau sent after him, young Oranmore mounted his horse, and, accompanied by the squire, rode off toward Mount Sunset Hall, the squire enlivening the way by numerous quotations from Solomon.
On reaching the Hall, his host ushered him into the parlor, where, seated at the piano, was the squire's daughter, Lizzie, singing, by some singular coincidence:
"There's somebody coming to marry me—
There's somebody coming to woo."
Whether Miss Lizzie had seen that somebody coming through the window, I cannot say.
She rose abruptly from her seat as they entered, exclaiming:
"Oh, papa! I'm so glad you have come."
Then, seeing the stranger, she drew back with the prettiest affectation of embarrassment in the world.
Lizzie Erliston was pretty—decidedly pretty—with a little round, graceful figure, snowy complexion, rosebud lips, and sparkling, vivacious blue eyes. Graceful, thoughtless, airy, dressy, and a most finished flirt was little Lizzie.