DETECTED.
His passion is not, he declares, the mere fever
Of a rapturous moment. It knows no control;
It will burn in his breast thro' existence for ever,
Immutably fixed in the deeps of the soul.
The Wanderer.
"Why did you shoot on so quick, Major?" said Vavasour, in an injured tone, after the dumb scene before referred to. "We might as well have stayed and discoursed those young women."
Fane growled something about not choosing to intrude.
"I don't suppose they would have minded. That spicy little party, Lily Tremaine, was smoking. I wonder who finds her in cigars?"
"I hate Canadian girls!" said Fane. "And when they pretend to be fast they are more unbearable still."
"Oh, come," said Jack, warmly, for was not Bluebell of that maligned nationality? "they must have used you badly, Major. They are far more unaffected and natural than English girls, who always ride to orders; and as for beauty—"
"You have only got to look at Bluebell Leigh. Well, slope back to them, Jack. You shan't have the boat, because I should never get it again. But if you like to plough through that long grass to their bivouac, I daresay the mosquitoes will receive you warmly if the young ladies don't."
In the meantime, Bluebell, tempted by a shady creek, abandoned her canoe, and, flinging herself down on a bed of wild flowers, remained a prey to the consideration of this new view of Lilla's, which would account, in the most unwelcome manner, for the inconsistency of Du Meresq's conduct with his professions.