“Well, not much, I think; I have grown five or six feet taller, and my complexion has become a genteel brown; but, otherwise, I am the same Ranty Lawless I went away.”
“A little quieter, I should hope, for the peace and well-being of the community at large. Do you still retain the high opinion you had of yourself before you left?”
“Yes, slightly increased,” said Ranty, who had now recovered all his customary nonchalance of manner. “There was a little lady out with us from England whose precious life I had the pleasure of saving; and with whose raven eyes and coal-black hair I would have fallen in love, but for the thought of a dear little blue-eyed fairy at home, who promised to wait for me until I could come back. Do you remember that promise, Erminie?”
“I only remember you were very absurd,” said Erminie, laughing and blushing. “Don’t talk nonsense; but tell me how you were so fortunate as to save the lady’s life?”
“Well, one windy evening, a little before dark, this little Lady Rita, who by the way, though the haughtiest, sauciest young damsel I ever encountered, was quite courageous, came upon deck, and insisted on remaining there, in spite of all expostulations to the contrary. She was leaning over the side, and I was standing near, watching her, for want of something better to do, when the vessel gave a sudden lurch round. I heard a scream, and beheld the place where her little ladyship had lately stood vacant. I caught sight of her the next moment struggling in the waves; and, in a twinkling, I was in after her. Lady Rita, who had hitherto looked down upon me and all the rest of us with sublimest hauteur and vestal prudery, made not the slightest objection to be caught in my arms now; on the contrary, she held on with an energy that nearly strangled me. A boat was lowered, and we were fished up, clinging to each other, as if bound to hold on to the last gasp. Lady Rita, according to the incomprehensible custom of the female sex in general, fainted stone dead the moment she found herself in safety. It’s interesting to faint, and I was looking round for a nice place to follow her example; but upon second thoughts I concluded I wouldn’t. There were no nice young ladies round who understood my case; and to be tickled with burnt feathers, and be drenched with cold water by a lot of sailors, was not to be thought of. Lady Rita was carried to the cabin; and a great fuss and commotion reigned there for the next two or three hours, while I was taking life easy, smoking a cigar on deck. Then the earl, her ‘parient,’ made his appearance, and completely deluged me with gratitude and thanks, which I stood like a hero, until the countess also came. Her tears and protestations of everlasting gratitude were a little too much, and I fled. I blush to say it, but I beat an inglorious retreat, for thanks are things one easily gets a surfeit of.”
“Why, Ranty, you have sailed in high company lately,” said Erminie; “earl and countess—dear me! I begin to feel quite an awe of you.”
“So you ought; and I hope you’ll continue to cherish the feeling. But, Erminie, do you know—though, as you have never seen him, it’s likely you don’t—but you have the most wonderful resemblance to Lord De Courcy I ever beheld in my life.”
“Lord De Courcy!” exclaimed Erminie, growing pale as she remembered Ketura’s fearful denunciations against all who bore that name.
“Yes, Lord and Lady De Courcy are at present in Washington City. The earl says he always felt a desire to visit this country; but, hitherto, circumstances prevented him. The countess is a lovely woman—one of the most beautiful, I think, I ever saw; and as good as she is beautiful, every one says.”
“I have heard of her before,” said Erminie, in a low, subdued tone. “Mr. Toosypegs saw her many years ago, when he was in England. At least, I imagine it was her; for she was the wife of the old earl’s son, and Mr. Toosypegs says that since the death of his father he has been Lord De Courcy.”