CHAPTER XXVII.
GREEK MEETS GREEK.
“‘I scorn,’ quoth she, ‘thou coxcomb silly, Quarter or counsel from a foe. If thou canst force me to it, do,’” —Hudibras.
“I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it in thy face, Than stoop to thee.” —Shakspeare.
Petronilla rode gayly along to the little bustling, half-village, half-city, Judestown, thinking over her late surprising proposal, and scarcely knowing whether to laugh at or pity poor Mr. Toosypegs. As she reached the town these thoughts were dispelled by the busy scenes around, and Pet found herself fully occupied in nodding to her various friends and acquaintances as she passed.
Pet’s destination was the post-office, a large building which served as a store, hotel, and post, all in one. As she drew rein at the door, the mail-coach drew up, and Pet lingered where she was a moment, in order to avoid the crowd.
The passengers crowded in, and as the coach-door opened, a young gentleman sprung out and assisted a lady, closely veiled, to alight. Neither of them noticed Pet; so they did not observe her quick start, her sudden flush, and the vivid lighting up of her beautiful eyes.
These outward and very unwonted signs of emotion on Pet’s part passed away as quickly as they came, and in one minute more she was as cool, saucy and composed as ever.
“Is there any one here who will drive us to Old Barrens Cottage?” said the young gentleman, glancing at the landlord.
“Yes, sir; in ten minutes, sir; just step in, sir; my boy’s gone off in a gig with a gent, but he’ll be back soon. Walk right in this way, sir,” replied the obsequious landlord, with a profusion of bows to the well-dressed and distinguished-looking stranger before him.
“I would rather not wait,” said the gentleman. “Can you not let me have some other conveyance, and I will drive over myself?”