“His grace, perhaps, will repeat the romantic story?” added Mrs. Grahame.
“Oh, weadily, weadily! you are wight, madam, the stowy is womantic,” returned the Duke, with vivacity. “The fact is, my deaw host,” continued he, “we weaw all in the gawden the othaw mawning; we had awested owaw steps for a few seconds, when, all of a moment, an appawition of angelic beauty pwesented itself to owaw dazzled eyes.”
“In my garden!” exclaimed Mr. Grahame, fiercely, as much as to say, “how dare apparitions of angelic beauty present themselves in my garden?”
“No,” returned the Duke, “in the next gawden to the left. She wemained but faw an instant, and then dis-appeawed. We aw divided in opinion with wespect to haw chawms.”
The manner of Mr. Grahame in a moment strangely altered its character.
“The young lady is exquisitely beautiful!” he exclaimed, with an emphasis which made Mrs. Grahame slowly elongate upwards and Margaret Claverhouse open her eyes to their full extent, while the others looked at him with surprise.
At length Mrs. Grahame found a tongue.
“I should have hardly conceived that such a person had attracted the notice of Claver’se Grahame!” she exclaimed, in a tone of contemptuous surprise.
“I have just returned from a visit to the young lady’s father,” he returned, sharply stung by the tone of his wife’s remark.
Mrs. Grahame knew not how to support this dreadful wound to her pride; her upper lip trembled.